


The Gift of Prophesy

by FlynnMz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 11:29:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 50,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16240706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlynnMz/pseuds/FlynnMz
Summary: “Stay with me tonight, love.”The answer was already on her lips, and she turned back to the man who was cradling her face so gently. She looked up into the obsidian eyes and whispered,“Always.”





	1. Chapter One: Whispers Through a Dream

**Chapter One: Whispers through a Dream**

_Blood. There was so much blood. She could smell it as she choked back a gag. Somehow she jumped into action, hardly thinking, hardly seeing through her tears but remembering her muggle wound training from years ago. Apply pressure to the wound. Ignore the blood flushing through between her fingers. Just hold on._

_“Hermione, we have to go!”_

_Ron pulled on her arm once again, but she couldn’t leave. No she couldn’t leave him. Not after everything._

_Time shifted, she was outside one of the private rooms at St. Mongo’s, her heart beating wildly in her throat. She reached for the door, but then pulled back. What if he didn’t want to see her. What if he didn’t remember it was her. Suddenly smelled the blood as if it was fresh on her trembling hands once again. She looked down, and sure enough they were dripping, sticky crimson._

_The room shifted again, this time she was in a place she didn’t recognize. She looked around. She was in a bedroom, though it was hardly decorated. Just a massive four poster bed with emerald green comforter, and a roaring fire. The mood was different, she was no longer terrified. A calm overcame her, then a familiar hand cupped her cheek. She turned into the touch, as the sensual voice wrapped around her like the warmth of the fire._

_“Stay with me tonight, love.”_

_The answer was already on her lips, and she turned back to the man who was cradling her face so gently. She looked up into the obsidian eyes of Severus Snape and whispered,_

_“Always.”_

     Hermione awoke with a gasp and blinked into the darkness. It took her a few seconds to fully become aware that she was out of the dream, the residual guilt, then terror, then confusion sweeped through her like a tidal wave washing over her before slowly sweeping away. She breathed in deeply, practicing the calming rhythmic breathing Professor McGonagall had taught her. The matron had recognized the signs of post traumatic trauma within the first few days after the war. Over the summer she had owled back and forth numerous times with kind advice, relaxing charms, and tales of the rebuilding of the great castle. Although, Hermione found the most helpful had been her simple breathing techniques, which she was now implementing.

     Four second deep breaths in. Hold for four more seconds. Release for four seconds.

     After repeating a full set of ten breaths, she was rather calmed down once again. The sound of her heartbeat faded, and she heard the soft sounds of the house once again. By the soft breathing across the room, Ginny was still sound asleep. Thank God she slept like the rest of the Weasley clan, where even a thundering herd of Hippogriffs could hardly wake them. Hermione had been having this recurring dream almost every night as the days came closer and closer to returning to Hogwarts. Now as the day was upon them, it seemed sleep would not come easy.

     Her choice to return to Hogwarts had been met with much skepticism, including a fair bit of her own. Harry and Ron had tried their best to be supportive, but their doubts still had been expressed numerous times. Including last night in the garden of the Burrow with her hand between Ron’s slightly clammy hands.

“Are you sure you want to go ‘Mione? It’s a long time until Christmas.”

      She had sighed and ignored the prickly annoyance his gaze left her. She couldn’t, didn’t feel that way. Not about Ron. It was just the trauma.

“Yes Ron, I want this. It will go by quick. I promise.”

     Hermione had faked a smile. Kissed his cheek. Then made an excuse to go to bed. Early train. She had pretended that she hadn’t seen him sigh and drop his head into his hands as she made her escape. But no matter how much it hurt to hurt Ron, there was something beyond her pulling her back to Hogwarts.

     When the offers came from the Ministry she had stalled debating on what to do. Ron and Harry jumped at their Auror training invitations. Her offers sat for a week. Then McGonagall sent an invitation, and she accepted within the hour. A chance to finish her NEWTS, along with a prestigious apprenticeship in Potions. When the owl first dropped it into her hands, she had opened it feverishly, reading with her jaw dropped. Her gaze fixed on the bottom of the letter where three signatures were inked. Minerva McGonagall, Gryffindor Head of House Transfiguration Professor. Horace Slughorn, Slytherin Head of House, Potions Master. And Severus Snape, Headmaster of Hogwarts. The last signature was in dark green with minimal, slightly untidy handwriting she knew from years of deciphering the marks on her potions essays. The rumors were true. Snap had returned to his position at Hogwarts. That knowledge gave her hope. If he could return, she could. It had been her goal since entering the Great Hall at 11 to finish her NEWTS, and now the opportunity was here.

     Realizing sleep would not return, Hermione sat up and reached for her wand on the bedside table.

“Accio letter.” She murmured.

      The parchment flew silently into her waiting palm. She light her wand with a wordless spell, and stared once again at the signature on the bottom of the page. The eyes from her dreams swam through her brain once again, and magic tickled the back of her neck. Yes, something was pulling her to Hogwarts. And as much as she swore to herself it was the honor of the apprenticeship and chance to finally prove herself with her NEWTS, that tingle told her maybe that wasn’t the only thing.


	2. Chapter Two: Surprises

**Chapter Two: Surprises**

     Hermione wished she could take a pin and pop the ridiculous bubble of happiness that was swelling inside her as the train pulled away from Kings Cross. She felt guilt so deeply her stomach turned. The whole Weasley crew as well as Harry came to see them off. She had been tossed around from arms to arms, wiping tears and reassuring how quickly Christmas would come upon them. 

      Right before the last whistle to signal the departure Harry had pulled her in into his open arm, while Ginny still clung to the other, and whispered. 

 

           “Love you Hermione. Be sure to owl as often as you can.”

 

     Then it was Ron’s turn. He pulled her close and kissed her deeply. She fell easily into the familiarity of the kiss, reciprocating back as calculated as an  arithmancy problem. When he pulled back, she noticed how his eyes shone with tears. 

 

          “Oh Ron, its only till Christmas.” She whispered. 

 

     He smiled shyly at her,

 

          “I’ll owl you every week. I promise.” 

 

     The final whistle sounded loudly. Hermione pulled back out of his arms.

 

          “I love you Hermione.”

 

          “Love you too Ron.”

 

     Guilt rolled violently and she shifted in her seat thinking back to her words. She and Ginny had made it on board right as the scarlet train began moving. Hermione told herself her hands were shaking due to nerves of leaving. Not excitement. She bit her lip to hold back a grin and leaned her head against the plush headrest. 

     Ginny stirred beside her. The door of their train compartment had not more than latched closed before she had thrown herself onto the seat in tears. Hermione had settled down beside her stroking her hair every now and again. The countryside blurred at their speed, the weather turning dark and gloomy. Much like she should feel. She realized this was the first train ride she did not have the boys by her side, it should be a sad realization. She owed it to Ron and Harry to be upset at departing. But her thoughts were buzzing with anticipation. A sigh escaped this time. She really wished she could physically pop this guilty happiness. 

 

           “You okay ‘Mione?” 

 

     Ginny had pulled her head up and was studying her with red eyes. Hermione smiled at her kindly and pushed back a lock of the girls firey hair. 

 

          “Yeah. Are you?” 

 

          “Yeah.”

 

      They fell into a comfortable silence, Ginny lost in her grief, Hermione returned to her thoughts of the weeks to come. It had been years since an apprentice had been at Hogwarts but she had read it once was a very common practice. Most of the professors now had studied under teaching apprenticeships and the practical nature of the job prepared students to acell. She would be teaching maybe as soon as the first of the year. The thought excited her more. Although she had never told anyone, she had always thought she might become a teacher. She remembered being as young as five and holding school for all her stuffies. She also fancied the idea she might be rather good at it as well. After all she did help Neville get through potions for six years. 

 

          “Hey! Is that Hermione Granger? The war hero!”

 

     An obnoxious high pitched voice carried through the closed compartment door. She glanced up and smiled meekly at two first year girls who had their noses pressed against the glass, their eyes wide like saucers. 

 

         “Oooh and look, I think that’s Harry Potter’s girlfriend!” The other said, pressing her small hands against the glass like they were at the zoo. 

 

     Hermione jumped as the curtains rolled down with a snap, blocking the first years star struck gazes. Ginny had fully sat up now, her wand still pointed at the door and a scowl on her face. 

         “Sure, your the bloody war hero and I’m just the girlfriend.” 

 

     A snicker broke out and she slapped a hand over her mouth immediately. Ginny’s scowl twisted towards Hermione. Then ever so slowly the corners of the redhead’s mouth turned till they were both doubled over in giggles. 

 

          “ ‘Spose that’s just the first of it.” Ginny commented after their laughter had finally settled.

          “I’m sure. But it won’t be too bad. And we will be plenty busy.”

 

         “You’ll be plenty busy you mean. When do you start your apprenticeship duties?”

 

     Hermione bit her lip realizing she wasn’t quite sure. Come to think of it other than the short reply from McGonagle after she accepted the position she had little other information of what was expected of her. She had just been so caught up in her eagerness to return to realize. 

          “You know, I’m not sure yet. I’ve just been doing some reading about apprenticeships in general and they are usually a balance of personal research teaching, and observing. I assume my schedule will be quite full.”

 

     Ginny grinned at her. 

          “Nothing the great war hero can’t handle I’m sure.”

 

      Hermione rolled her eyes and laughed. Thankfully the mood lightened, and the afternoon passed with steady conversation and cat naps. Finally the train had arrived at Hogsmeade Station. As they stepped off the train into the crowd of students, a loud familiar voice rang above all the bustle. 

 

          “First years this way, first years, Oi! HERMIONE! GINNY!”

          “Hello Hagrid!”

 

      She elbowed her way out of the crowd on the platform, Ginny right on her heels, and ran right into Hagrid’s massive bear hug. 

 

           “So good to see ya both. So happy I was to hear yer comin’ back! And as an apprentice no doubt! Speaking of that, here Hermione, got this for ya. From the headmaster.”

     The mountain of a man handed her a small sealed envelope. A strange tingle swept through her fingers as she turned it in her hand. The seal was a bright emerald green wa x with the Hogwarts house crest ornately pressed in the middle. Hagrid and Ginny had continued conversation without her but Hermione hardly heard them as she opened the letter and read.

 

**_Report to my office directly after the Welcome Feast to discuss the terms of your apprenticeship. The password is Gobstones._**

_**Severus Snape, Hogwarts Headmaster.** _

     Hermione tucked the note carefully in the sleeve of her robes analyzing every word. The bubble of sheer happiness that she so had wished to pop earlier was finally leaking some of its air as she realized she had not seen Snape since the incident at St. Mungo’s. A wicked voice inside her head whispered, 

 

_           Oh but you have seen him. In your dreams. _

 

     Mentally she swatted the voice away, refocusing on her surroundings. Ginny was tugging on her sleeve and Hagrid had turned back to his first year charges. 

 

         “Let’s go get a carriage!”

     

     Hermione let her feet turn to autopilot the whole way to the castle while her brain continued humming with anticipation and questions of the meeting ahead of her. It was only until they were right outside of the Great Hall did she finally take in the reality that was before her. The huge doors swung open and she smiled scanning the spectacular room before her. It had been restored to all its magical glory after the war, and the ceiling had its usual bewitched twinkling night sky. Hermione scanned the crowd recognizing some faces but her heart really began pounding as her gaze found the staff tables at the front of the room. Most of the faces were familiar, and she caught the eye and smiles of Professors Flitwick and Sprout. She paused as her gaze fell on Hogwarts Headmaster. He sat tall and straight, with the usual black robes. The dark hair framed around his face was longer than she remembered, it now brushed his shoulders. She couldn’t help but think that he looked good. Healthier than last time she had seen him. Although still pale, more color could be seen in his cheeks than ever before. He seemed younger. Hermione watched transfixed as he lifted a hand up to his chin, rubbing it absentmindedly. 

     Snape’s dark eyes rapidly flickered over to meet her own and held. She caught her breath as the visions of her dreams bombarded her. Snape raised a single ebony eyebrow rose high on his pale forehead. A flush warmed her face, and her ears burned. Her reaction startled her to the core and her stomach fluttered. Then as quick as it came, his eyes moved away back to observe the incoming students. 

 

          “Coming ‘Mione?”

 

     Hermione registered Ginny’s voice next to her and finally gained some composure. Shuffling over to the Gryffindor table she took her seat wondering now more than ever what new surprises this year would be bringing.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kudos and comments!!! I know this chapter was a bit of a filler but it is going to start picking up now! Are you ready for the meet cute? (and by meet cute meaning they already met, and maybe not so cute...we shall see... ;) )


	3. Chapter Three: Flashbacks

**Chapter Three: Flashbacks**

     Hermione took a deep breath in for a count of four. Held it for four. Then released it for four. The feast had come to a close much too soon, and now she was standing outside the Gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's office, the words from his welcome speech still ringing in her head. 

     She had anticipated this years welcome to be a show of power, to answer all those who might have questions about his return to the position after the war. But when the man who demanded students fear in the potions classroom, the man who had lived so long on the inside of Voldemort's reign sacrificing almost everything and had survived the war, stood and spoke of forgiveness and new beginnings, Hermione thought she might have still been stuck in her dreams. 

 

_           “We have endured tragedy, horrors that will not fade lightly. But not many years ago Albus Dumbledore stood before you and said happiness can be found in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light. We are not longer surrounded in the darkness although happiness might not yet be found. Let us turn on the light this year through forgiveness. Let us find happiness.” _

 

     Hermione had watched him as the rest of the students made their way out of the hall. He stood nodding to something McGonagall was leaning over to say, those sharply observant eyes scanning the crowds movement. Then in a whirl of black swirling robes he was gone, stalking out of the Great Hall from a door behind the staff tables. 

     And now she was here feeling foolish for her hesitation to even speak a password. Where was that Gryffindor courage? She repeated her breathing once more then rolled her shoulders back. Think of what those girls on the train would think of their war hero now, scared to face her Potions master. 

 

          “Gobstones.”

 

     The gargoyle leapt back grumbling something like about time, and Hermione started on the steps into the office. The familiar ornate door loomed before her and she raised her knuckles to knock. The door swung open as if it was waiting for her and Hermione stepped into the heartbreakingly familiar office space. 

     Snape had obviously changed the decor to suit his own needs but the space itself still reminded her so much of Dumbledore. Her traumatized mind flashed violently to the great wizard’s funeral, the months of running in fear following, Malfoy Manor, pain so much pain, the floor of the Shrieking Shack turning red, the blood running through her fingers as she held pressure on Snape’s mangled neck. 

 

          “Miss. Granger.”

 

    The familiar deep baritone voice yanked her out of a blind panic and she flinched like a startled cat. 

 

          “Are you well?”

 

    Hermione’s vocal chords seemed to shrivel up as she stared wide eyed at the Headmaster who had just entered the room from a door in the corner she had never noticed before. Had he always been so tall? He loomed in front of her even from across the room, brows furrowed studying her with an intense stare. Still unable to find her voice she meekly nodded her head. The panic of her flashback was still poisoning her system and she struggled to remind herself to breath. Snape’s left eyebrow rose slowly towards his hairline as he continued to watch her. 

    The door behind them opened, Hermione jumped once again at the voices entering. 

 

          “I surely doubt that Horance, but if you have a problem with the pudding you could always inform the house elves directly.”

 

          “And crush their petite souls with such a comment. I surely couldn’t. Ah, Miss. Granger, dear girl! How are you?”

 

    Horace Slughorn followed by Minerva McGonagall, both looking as if time had never change them. McGonagall was dressed in shimmering robes of her house’s deep crimson color, and her gray hair pulled back in the usual tight bun. Slughorn looked slightly thinner, but it suited him and his deep purple robes fit better than ever. With the stress from the war long gone they both looked healthy and in good spirits. 

     McGonagall didn’t hesitate to cross the short distance and pulled Hermione into a tight hug. The comforting contact grounded her, and she returned the elderly woman’s fierce embrace. 

 

          “I’m so glad you accepted Hermione.” 

 

     McGonagall pulled back but still held on to her, and tucked a strand of Hermione's long curly hair behind her ear in a mothering sort of way. 

 

           “I’m glad as well Professor. It’s so good to see you.” Hermione smiled back, then turned to Slughorn. 

 

          “It’s wonderful to see you as well Professor Slughorn, and thank you for the opportunity to be your apprentis.” 

 

     The paunchy man smiled at her warmly, patting her shoulder. 

          “Yes, well you are the brightest witch of your age!”

 

          “Shall we get on with this then.” 

     The cold voice of the Headmaster was like a bucket of cold water on the warm and jolly welcome. Hermione’s face fell as turned back to the man, who had sat down at the tall desk during the reunion. His expression had returned to the normal sneering scowl that terrorized students for years. Butterflies seemed to awaken in her stomach, a strange sensation. 

 

          “Yes sir.” She mumbled, and stepped fully out of the witches arms. 

 

      Snape flicked his wand from across the desk, and 3 armchairs appeared. He motioned for them to sit. Hermione sat, trying to relax into the seat. It was rather comfortable. She watched the interaction between her Professors with curiosity as they all took a seat. 

     McGonagall was staring at Snape rather sternly, like she was upset at his icy interruption. Professor Slughorn just sat back in his chair smiling slightly at them. The Headmaster turned his cold gaze back to the young Gryffindor. 

          “Hogwarts has never had a returning student, nor a student who has ever attempted to complete an apprenticeship while enrolled in N.E.W.T level courses. But I suppose if anyone were to ever try it would be the world famous Insufferable-Know-It-All.” Snape sneered.

         “Severus!” McGonagall snapped, sitting up to the edge of her seat. 

     The Headmaster flickered his gaze to the bristled lioness, smirked, then continued. 

 

         “You will report to a half-day of classes, the second half you’re expected to complete independent brewing hours or observations of classes. Seeing as you’re of age and will be teaching eventually you will have your own private quarters and brew room. At the end of the term you will completed your N.E.W.T.S and then continue your apprenticeship next year if you so choose. Or you may choose to seek full employment elsewhere.” 

 

          “And we hope you do choose to stay with us.” McGonagall added. 

          “Hmm.” Snape hummed and brought an hand up to his face, much like Hermione noticed in the Great Hall, to stroke his chin. 

     Hermione was soaking up the information a million questions running through her mind. Her own private quarters and brew room? Where? And already offering two years, this was more than she could ever dream of. McGonagall patted her knee. 

 

          “You must have questions, dear?” The matron asked. 

          “Yes, uh,” Hermione began, but was suddenly cut off. 

          “She can ask them later. It is late.” Snape interrupted, standing up and picking up a piece of parchment off his desk. 

 

          “Here is your timetable. Minerva will show you to your quarters.” He handed her the timetable, as if dismissed. 

     Beside her, McGonagall stood followed closely by Slughorn. 

          “Actually Severus, Horace and I were made aware of an incident between some students of our houses we need to attend to immediately. Perhaps you can escort Miss. Granger to her new quarters. Goodnight Severus, goodnight my dear!”

 

          “Goodnight Professors.”

      McGonagall pulled Hermione into a quick hug before turning quickly on her heel, Slughorn following closely behind still strangely silent. She watched until the door clicked, then slowly turned back to the Headmaster unsure of the sudden departure. Snape looked just as shocked as her, he was staring at the door eyes wide. The sight was almost comical if circumstances were different. But the facts of their last encounter before her return to Hogwarts weighed heavily on her mind. Once again her vision flashed with traumatized images and she began to remember the memories she would much rather keep tucked in their proper dark places.

_            She had to keep pressure. Her head swam with the feeling of the blood rushing between her fingers. A strange gurgling noise came from the broken man, his dark eyes wild with pain.  _

_      “Shh, Professor. Everything will be okay. It’s going to be okay.” _

_ She was sobbing now. She was losing him, she could see the color draining along with so much blood. Then the thought hit her. Her bag!  _

_       “Accio bag” She whispered, wandlessly. The beaded bag came flying to her obediently.  _

_       “I’m so sorry Professor, just hold on.”  _

_ She lifted her hands from his neck to grab her wand and opened the bag. Summoning the potions she ripped the tops off vials frantically and began pouring them down the dying man’s throat. Or what was left of it anyway. She grabbed her wand and started muttering every healing spell she knew, including one for dark magic she had used on her own scar. The blood still flowed, but somehow it seemed to be slowing. He had stopped making noises, but she didn’t stop until she could no longer think of  another spell. Her sobbing had reached hysterics and she sat back on her heels, looking down at the man she respected so much. The teacher who had always challenged her, infuriated her, taught her. His eyes were rolling towards the back of his head. She reached down and cupped his cheek.  _

_       “Stay with me please. Please. Professor...Severus.” _

_ She gasped as a shaking hand jolted up to hold her own, and his eyes locked onto hers. Recognition seemed to pass through the obsidian irises, and he focused in on her. She held his gaze for what felt like eternity, searching for something but not knowing what. Then a strange hum filled her ears and with it a soft light began emerging from the tip of her wand still held against her leg in her other hand. It demanded her attention as she watched fascinated. The light glowed brighter, sweeping closer and winding itself around the Professors face, especially around their resting hands. It continued till it surrounded them entirely in a tight little bubble, a feeling of warmth tingled within her chest. Their eyes met again, and the light flashed blindingly bright.  _

_ A foreign feeling entered the memory, one that she had never remembered before. Like a shadow looming over their shoulders. No. He couldn’t be. Anger fired within her gut, and she ripped herself out of the flashback.  _

 

          “HOW DARE YOU!” Hermione roared, both her and Snape were forced to stumble backwards from her intense anger and exit from the flashback.

 

     The Headmaster blinked at her once again in shock, but quickly recovered stalking towards her at full intimidating height and staring at her murderously. Hermione was still fuming, and stepped towards the oncoming man, not stopping till they were only a few feet apart. 

 

          “You had no right to be in my head! It’s illegal!” She spat, pointing her finger towards his chest. 

          “If you had responded and not just stood there like a frozen like a stupid mountain troll I wouldn’t have to throw you out of your own bloody head!” He hissed back.  

 

          “You can’t just go into people's heads! That’s an invasion of privacy!” 

 

    Snape took a step closer and folded his arms, 

 

          “Trust me, I would not be voluntarily looking into the mind of such an annoyingly petty child if I did not feel absolutely necessary. Now get out.” 

 

     His voice dropped to an absolutely chilling calmness that caused a tingle of fear to run down Hermione’s spine. Her anger began dissipating and she realized what memory he had witnessed. Her ears burned. She nearly jumped out of her skin when cold long fingers grabbed her wrists and yanked her towards the fire. 

 

          “Hey!” She protested, but he didn’t stop until they were at the fire hearth.

 

     Grabbing a handful of floo powder he threw it with such force the emerald flames exploded around their ankles. Finally with a push he threw her into the fire, and snarled. 

          “Ask for Granger’s Quarters. Leave!” 

     Coughing from the fire, she scowled at him but complied. 

          “Granger’s Quarters.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and comments! I'll be shooting for updates at least weekly, so I was excited to get this chapter up a little early! As always let me know what you think :)


	4. Chapter Four: A Confusing First Day

**Chapter Four: A Confusing First Day**

     Hermione landed on her knees crashing into a small sitting room, coughing up soot. She stood up and dusted herself off, confused, angry and above all embarrassed. He had used Legilimency on her, invaded her mind, saw the night in the Shrieking Shack, saw the secret of what happened that she had never told anyone of. The reality of the last few minutes hit her full force.

         “Oh no.” She whispered to herself. 

     She had yelled at the Headmaster. And he had thrown her out of his office. 

 

          “Oh no, no, no, no.” Hermione rubbed her face with her sooty hands, feeling tears coming soon. 

     What was she going to do? Would he even let her keep her apprenticeship? Her tears began leaking, and she nearly screamed in frustration of the whole situation, especially at her own rash behavior. For most of the summer months she had been able to brush off her anger, her flashback as trauma of the war. They would pass with time, by the end of the summer she would be fine. Now she wasn’t so sure. 

     Taking more breaths, she forced herself to move, to be productive. To be her normal self. No use dwelling in the irrational actions which already occured. All she could do now was wait to see what would happen. Much like like the state of her mind. Wait to see what happens. Hermione wiped her tears, and took a look around the space that would possibly be hers. If she still had her apprenticeship. 

    The sitting room was small but quaint. Although the furniture was sparse, only a large squishy black couch, a small clock on the fire mantle, and a nice sturdy coffee table, her attention was immediately drawn to the walls. The room was shaped like a hexagon. One side held the fire hearth she had entered from and two other sides held doors, which she guessed led to her bedroom and bathroom. The other three walls were floor to ceiling empty book shelves. She wondered briefly if this was a standard room for a Professors and apprentices or was this room specifically designed for her. Hermione had never had so much bookspace to call her own before, a fact both exciting and heartbreaking given the uncertainty she now put herself in. 

     The clock on the mantle began chiming, the noise startling her to jump. As the tenth chime rang, Hermione had not realized how late it was. No wonder she felt   worn to the bone. Making her way to the other doors she discovered an equally cozy bedroom and a nice bathroom. The bathroom even had a shower and a clawfoot tub that looked incredibly inviting for a hot bath. She paused in the mirror, startled.  

     The young woman staring back to her was starting to reflect some of the turmoil in her mind. Her normally wild curls had lost some bounce and seemed to lay flatter around her face. Dark circles shadowed deeply beneath her eyes giving away her lack of sleep. She had lost weight around her torso, so much she looked frail underneath her muggle jumper. Hermione stared hard at her reflection, her mind whirling. Since the war everyone around her looks healthier, younger, more vibrate and full of life. Why did she look like the end of the war sucked all the life out of her, more effective than a Dementors kiss. 

     Finally trudging away from the mirror with a heavy sigh, she explored the bedroom. It too was simple, but very comfortable. A sensible closet, and dresser were in the corner. In the middle of the room, flanked by two night stands was a large queen size bed with a deep maroon comforter. Her trunk from the train was already at the foot of her bed, and she summoned her pajamas with her wand. Changing quickly, she pulled back the comforter and crawled in dropping her wand on the nightstand. Hermione stared at the ceiling waiting for sleep, and hoping when it found her she could dream about something other than obsidian eyes haunting her. 

 

~

 

     Hermione woke up groggy, and unsure of her surroundings. Instinctually she grabbed her wand and sat straight up, a hex ready on her lips and her heart pounding. After a few seconds reality trickled back to her memory, and she lowered her wand. She was in her new quarters. At Hogwarts. Right. 

     Rubbing the sleep from her eyes she stood and headed towards the shower. She supposed if she were to hear any news about her apprenticeship it would be at breakfast. Knowing the Headmaster flair for humiliation, he would probably want to fire her in front of the whole school. But maybe she could reason with him. He had illegally entered her mind. She could go to McGonagall first, explain the whole situation. But how would she explain what he had seen? 

     Hermione was lost in her head all the way through her morning routine, grabbing her bag and wand out of habit. It wasn’t until she stepped out of her quarters and into a hallway she did not recognize, that she fully became aware of what was happening around her. Looking around anxiety ticked the back of her neck. She wasn’t sure she had even ever been in this part of the castle, and she realized she had traveled there by floo last night. Snape was supposed to show her how to find her quarters. 

     She looked left and right.The hallway was long, rather dark and bare except for two portraits down at the right end. Perhaps she was down towards the dungeons. She supposed she should just start one direction and see where it leads. Shrugging her bag further up her shoulder she headed towards the portraits. Perhaps they could help her anyway. 

          “Miss. Granger!” 

     A voice behind her called out, and she spun around. Professor McGonagall was coming around the opposite end of the hall, waving towards her. Anxiety washed through her like a tidal wave. This was it, Snape had already sent McGonagall to tell her she no longer had an apprenticeship. Hermione thought briefly about running, but the matron had caught up to her, surprisingly fast. 

 

          “Hermione! I wanted to come check in and see if your quarters are to your liking? I know it might be a bit hard to be this far from the Gryffindor tower.” 

 

          “Err,” Hermione stalled, panicking and thinking of what to say not even knowing what floor they were on in the grand castle. 

 

          “It’s no big deal.” She said finally. 

 

     Far away from the Gryffindor tower. Where was her room anyway? The Professor’s eyes narrowed, making her look even more feline. She had noticed Hermione’s pause, and discomfort. 

 

          “I was worried about this, and I told Severus you should be closer to your house no matter who you were apprenticing. Not down here in the dungeons where its so dark and dreary.” 

 

     Ah, so she was in the dungeons. 

 

         “It’s fine quarters, I really appreciate having my own space, no matter where it is. Honestly Professor.”

 

     McGonagall looked at her over her glasses again. Hermione held her breath, waiting for the Professor to bring up last night. To tell her she had to go home. 

 

          “Shall we head to breakfast dear? I’m sure you are anxious to start your first day of classes.”

     Hermione could only nod, and followed the Professor down the hallway. She paid careful attention as they walked for the turns to get to the main staircase. Her quarters were deep in the heart of the dungeons, in an area she had never explored nor known existed. It took them several minutes to make their way up to a main staircase. 

     McGonagall continued light small talk, asking her about her summer. Hermione responded easily with the white lies she had rehearsed many times, wondering what was happening. They had just reached the landing of the Great Hall when the Professor asked, 

 

          “How’s Ronald?”

 

     Hermione stopped short. McGonagall had continued a few steps before realizing the girl had stopped. She turned back with an inquizical look. Catching her reaction, Hermione blurted, 

 

          “He is good. A little upset about my choice to come back, but it was my choice.”

 

     The honesty surprised even her, and the Professors eyebrows shot up before she chuckled softly. 

          “You’ve always been the most independent student I’ve had the fortune to meet. He will be proud of your accomplishments. My guess is he is just sad to not have your company day in and out.”

 

          “I suppose so, Professor.”

 

     They reached the door to the Hall and McGonagall reached for Hermione’s hand giving it a squeeze. 

          “Have a great day my dear, I’ll see you in Transfigurations.”

     Hermione watched incredibly confused as her head of house turned in a swirl of robes and clicking of her heels on the stone floor. Shaking her head, she finally turned into the Great Hall. Surely something was going to be done about her behavior last night. No one yells at Severus Snape without punishment. 

     With deep breaths she walked into the hall and quickly located Ginny. Hurrying over she sat down next to her. 

          “Good Morning! There you are! What happened last night? I waited in the common room for you till way past 11. ” Ginny grabbed her arm, squeezing. 

          “Morning Gin. It’s a long story.”

     Hermione poured herself a strong cup of tea, mixing in a splash of milk, and cast a muffliato. She began her whispered update on the events from last night making sure to be vague of the memory Snape had seen. When she was done Ginny was staring at her wide eyed, and turned her head towards the staff table. Hermione had not been brave enough to look at the Headmaster yet, but finally snuck a peek under her lashes.

     Snape was sitting in his usual spot at the high table, but was turned toward the left and looked to be having an in depth conversation with Professor Flitwick. One side of his dark hair was tucked behind his ear. Hermione noticed the sharp angles of his cheekbones, and the line of his jaw. It made her cheeks burn, and she quickly looked back to her breakfast plate. She was not just admiring Severus Snape. Especially after his cold behavior yesterday and his likelihood of firing her. Something was seriously wrong with her brain. 

      Ginny turned back to her, and Hermione quickly stuffed a bit of bacon in her mouth to hide her blush. 

          “And McGonagall didn’t say anything this morning?” The redhead asked. 

     Hermione swallowed her bacon, 

          “No, that’s what’s the most confusing of all. I thought the minute she came to get me this morning it was over. But I haven’t heard a thing.”

          “Maybe he forgave you. Maybe he is going to let you stay?”

     Hermione gave her friend a skeptical look. 

          “I yelled at Snape. When has he ever been forgiving for anything?”

     Ginny looked around, making sure the spell was still surrounding them.

          “Well you did save his life ‘Mione. He owes you one. And I’ve heard Dad talking. He has changed alot since the war. Granted he’s still a right git most of the time, but he did risk everything for our side. And for Harry.” 

     The witch’s eyes misted up at her mention of Harry, and Hermione patted her knee. Ginny wiped her eyes free of the few tears that escaped, and took a long sip of tea. Hermione snuck one more look up at the staff table. Snape was now sipping from his own cup, looking out amongst the student tables. As if he felt her gaze, his eyes shifted towards her, and she immediately looked back to Ginny. 

          “Maybe you’re right.” Hermione added finally. 

     Ginny shrugged. The girls went back to their breakfast in an easy silence. Hermione was sure the redhead was thinking only of Harry, and she left her in peace until it was time to head to classes. With a quick goodbye hug, Hermione made her way to the Charms classroom for her first class. Although still uneasy about her apprenticeship, she supposed there was nothing left to do but wait and see what happens. At least she had her classes to distract herself from her own negative thoughts. 

 

~

 

     Classes had put Hermione in a much better mood than the morning. Her N.E.W.T level work was a welcomed challenge, and it seemed that her Professors were willing to go above and beyond to push her academically. Lunch had been non-eventful, even though Hermione did note the Headmaster's absence. Ginny had taken most of the meal time introducing her to the seventh years. Many of them were familiar as well as incredibly welcoming, and she found herself genuinely enjoying the familiarity of company. After lunch she had her afternoon meeting with Professor Slughorn, then after dinner she planned on spending a good deal of time studying in the library. That was always a highlight to look forward too. 

     She made her way down to Professor Slughorn’s office after lunch as he timetable instructed. As she reached the door, she took a deep breath trying to shake the twinge of panic. Although the day had brought no news of her apprenticeship, surely now that she was having her first meeting if it were to be her last Slughorn would inform her. 

     Bringing her fist to the door she moved to knock, she jumped back when it opened itself. 

          “Miss. Granger, come in, come in!” Professor Slughorn called from inside. 

     Hermione walked inside, looking around the Potions Master’s office. It looked very much the same as Slughorn had it last year, full of squishy and slightly tacky furniture and full of pictures of the famous witches and wizards Slughorn had taught over the years. Her eyes immediately were drawn to a rather large picture from two years ago where Slughorn had his arm around herself and Harry. Both portrait Harry and herself looked like they were rather uncomfortable with the attention, while the Professor beamed. The real Slughorn was behind his large desk reading some parchment. 

          “Hello Professor.” 

          “Miss. Granger, I am so glad you are here! Let us begin dear girl. Let us begin.”

     The Professor stood and ushered her towards one of the brewing rooms. Hermione exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She still had her position. She felt like crying and dancing with joy all at the same time, but of course contained it and followed the Professor into the room. 

     He began right away with describing the various tasks she would complete during her first half of the year as apprentis. It was mostly basic potions for the hospital wing, although there was a individual study she had to complete. Slughorn mentioned they would discuss ideas soon. Hermione listened closely, her heart swelling with excitement.

          “Oh yes, has the Headmaster shown you where your private brew room is?” Slughorn paused looking at her. 

          “Ah, no. Not yet Professor.” 

     The elder man paused and gave her a confused look for a split second, but then smiled at her once more. 

          “No matter, it should connect to your quarters. More than likely hidden in a handy bookshelf. Are you alright to start some dreamless sleep Madam Pomfrey today?”

          “Yes, of course!” She answered eagerly. 

         “Excellent, well I’ll leave you too it.” He patted her shoulder and turned towards the door. 

     Hermione watched as he made it to the door then, paused turning back. 

          “Oh yes, one more thing. The Headmaster reminded me to tell you as you are brainstorming your individual study if you need supplies that are on the rarer side, to let him know. He still keeps a personal supply of ingredients. And of course you are welcome to any one mine as well. Work as long as you like today. Good luck dear!”

     She stood frozen, her jaw dropping as Slughorn exited the room humming to himself. Access to Snape's private stock was something she was guessing no one besides perhaps Dumbledore himself had the invitation too. Her brain was in near overdrive trying to process this information. Turning back to the brewing table, she focused to her task to sooth her racing thoughts. Taking her wand she summoned all the ingredients for a dreamless sleep potion and got to work. 

 

     Hours later, the clock on the back wall chimed signaling dinner was starting. Near exhausted, but satisfied with her perfect completed potions she finished bottling her last batch and with a flick of her wand cleaned her space. As she gather her bag and headed up towards the Great Hall, she still couldn’t help but mull over Slughorn’s parting words. Why would the Headmaster extend her such an offer? 

     As she climbed the stairs, skipping the seventh one as it was a trick stair, she remembered Ginny’s words from this morning. Maybe Snape did feel that he owed her something. Could it be why she had this apprenticeship to begin with? The thought made her nauseous. Hermione’s thoughts crept back to the night in the Shrieking Shack, but she quickly steeled herself against them. She couldn’t afford a breakdown here in the middle of the castle, surrounded by others making their way to dinner. But she hoped with every fiber of her being he did not feel indebted, when in fact it was the furthest from her thoughts. She should be the thankful one for all he did during to save them during the war. Not to mention saving her neck in third year. 

     Hermione had reached the doors to the hall, opening them wide. She spotted the Headmaster, just arriving to his seat in a swirl of black robes. His hair was pulled back behind an ear again. The strange fluttering sensation began in the pit of her stomach. She brushed it off, blaming the feelings around the exhaustion of a long and confusing day. Dropping her eyes back to her house’s table she found her familiar seat next to Ginny and the other seventh years. She smiled widely, and tried her best to immerse herself in the discussion of everyone’s days. It was about time she started trying to get out of this head of hers anyway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a hard time of what to name this chapter so I apologize it's a bit of a lame title... But I am so thankful for the kudos and comments! Stay tuned, this is just getting more and more fun to write :)


	5. Chapter Five: A Nighttime Walk

**Chapter Five: A Nighttime Walk**

Two weeks had passed and Hermione had settled into her daily routine nicely. Although technically she was still taking courses, she found that her apprenticeship title allowed her more freedom than a student. McGonagall had come to walk her to breakfast for most of the first week, and had one morning informed her she did not have to abide by curfew, nor, to Hermione’s delight, needed a Professor's permission slip to the restricted section of the library. That knowledge fueled her new routine of classes, lunch with Ginny and the other Gryffindors, brewing until dinner, then either to the library or Gryffindor common room to study. 

Having her own room was also a major perk. She had spent most of her weekend setting up her space, and had discovered her brew room completely by accident. While setting up her bookshelves, arranging by subject, she found a switch on the bottom of a middle shelf. Pressing it, the whole bookcase groaned then began to swing out, much like a Muggle film she had once seen. She had peeked inside, and the sight took her breath away. Stepping inside completely she looked around in awe. 

The room was around the same size as her sitting room, and also had wrap around floor to ceiling shelves. A soft candle lit chandelier lit the space, illuminating the large brewing table. It was ornately simple, made of a dark wood and smooth to the touch. A cauldron was already set just waiting for her. The space was simple but incredibly welcoming, and all hers. Hermione had even done a little twirl in excitement. Although she had yet to brew anything in her space, she knew it would be a perfect space to work on her individual project. 

 

While her days had passed with much contentment, her nights had continued to plague her with vivid nightmares. And in the past few days, they had gotten worse. It was now Friday evening, and Hermione had worked late finishing up batches of Blemish Blitzer for Madam Pomfrey, planning to continue and start up some Calming Drought. But at a quarter to 9 Professor Slughorn had shooed her out telling her to go enjoy the start of her weekend. Trudging back to her rooms, she decided that perhaps she should try getting some rest early tonight. Hermione calculated on the walk to her room that she had probably only slept a collective 10 hours that week. The circles under her eyes were becoming quite permanent and much more defined. 

Entering her room, she felt the tingle from magic of her wards and locked herself in for the night. Too tired to even read, she quickly changed into her favorite pajamas and crawled into bed. Hermione was asleep no more than 2 minutes after her head hit the pillow.

 

“ _ CRUCIO!” _

_ Hermione screamed as the white hot pain radiated through every inch of her body. She squeezed her eyelids shut, tears escaping out of the corners. The sadistic laugh of  _ _ Bellatrix Lestrange was loud in her ear. The pain finally stopped, and a sob escaped.  _

_ “Filthy Mudblood, tell me what you took! TELL ME!” _

_ She could feel strands of the madwoman's hair on her face, and felt her hot breath. Then the pain started again. Hermione struggled to even breath, her stomach turning. She screamed,  _

_ “PLEASE! We found it! Found it.” She could barely whisper.  _

_ “Mudblood bitch! You lie!” _

_ She felt Lestrange’s weight pin her arm, then pain she had never known began ripping through her forearm. Hermione’s eyes flew open, as she realized the witch was cutting her with the blade she had threatened her with earlier. A new set of screams ripped through her and she tried to struggle, but was too weak. Her throat was growing hoarse from screaming. Hermione sobbed again, praying to lose consciousness or even for death. Anything to stop the pain.  _

_ But the pain continued until she had no voice left to scream. Finally her vision started going black. She felt the witch above her shift and sit up. Hermione slowly, painfully turned her head to look at her arm. Blood poured from the cuts, but she could clearly make out the word now carved out on her arm. Mudblood. She opened her mouth and tried to scream but nothing came out.  _

 

Gasping, Hermione sat straight up in bed, wand in hand and pure terror still pulsing through her veins. Sobbing into the darkness she sucked in air and slowly became aware of her surroundings. She was in her bed. At Hogwarts. Voldemort was dead. Bellatrix was dead. She took in deep breaths and flicked her wand to light the candles along the wall. Still crying, she glanced down at her arm, pulling up the sleeve of her nightshirt. The cursed markings on her arm were red and inflamed, looking very close to bleeding again. Hermione sighed, and tugged her sleeve down again. 

Knowing sleep would not find her again tonight, she pulled back the covers and padded her way into her sitting room. Running a hand along the spine of her books she considered reading, but even that idea didn’t seem calming. Her tears had at least dried, but the visions of Malfoy Manor were still fresh from the dream. She felt restless. Like the walls were closing in on her. She needed space to breath. 

Hermione looked at the door, contemplating an idea. Technically she had no curfew. Perhaps a walk around the castle would calm her. She bit her lip debating. She would just step out for a bit, enough to clear her head. Pulling her wand out of her sleeve she glanced at the clock above the fireplace. It was nearing a quarter past 1. She could be back by 1:45. Just a quick walk would help clear her head. 

Hermione started towards the door, lighting her wand so it glowed softly. Pulling the door open, she crept into the hallway feeling the wards close as her door did. Looking left and right she decided to head towards the astronomy tower and turned left. The halls were dark and quiet. Peaceful. She felt like she could breath easier, and the panic was easing with every step. Her feet moved putting her almost in a meditative state. The familiar hallways welcomed her, as they had before the war. Before the torture. 

She had reached the corridor leading to the astronomy tower staircase, when a rustling up ahead stopped her in her tracks. The anxiety crept up her spine once more. 

Hermione whispered, 

“Nox”

Then raised her wand, a hex ready. The only sound was her breathing, which she slowed and quieted, a practice learned from being on the run last year. She waited. 

A sound of footsteps came from less than a yard in front of her. Her mind triggered. 

_ She held her wand ready, she could hear their muffled laughter as they came closer. Finally one of the Death Eaters noticed her, a cruel smile formed on his lips, he raised his wand. _

“Stupefy! Stupefy! ” She cried, flinging as many hexes as she could wordlessly. 

Red light illuminated the entire hall, as Hermione’s spells bounced off the walls. She saw two bodies crumple to the floor stunned. 

 

_ The Death Eaters did not get up again, but she heard more coming. Trying to calm her racing heart, she held her ground spells ready. If she was going to die tonight, she would go out fighting. They were closer now. Almost around the corner.  _

 

“MISS. GRANGER?”

 

_ The scene changed around her. She was pinned down on the floor at Malfoy Manor once again, Bellatrix cakaling above her. Hermione screamed, her arm was begin carved open. The pain was too intense, she was finally blacking out. Hermione prayed for it.  _

 

“Merlin, Severus! What is happening to her?” 

 

“Her mind's a mess, I believe she’s experiencing flashbacks.”

 

_ The voice caused the scene to change once more. Her heart was still racing, and she opened her eyes blinking into the darkness. She was in bed, woken up from a nightmare. Familiar arms wrapped around her middle, pulling her close.  _

_ “Shhh love, it was only a nightmare. I’m here.” He mumbled into her ear. _

_ With the warm contact of his body pressed against hers she breathed deep and relaxed into him. His left arm was around her middle and she traced the familiar scar of the Dark Mark on his forearm. She felt his lips nuzzle against her neck, kissing sleepily. He smelled of sandalwood and home. Hermione breathed deeper, drifting off to sleep, as Severus whispered once again in her ear. _

_ “Go back to sleep Hermione.” _

 

Hermione came too on a soft surface frowning. She had tried to hold onto her wonderful dream, not wanting to wake. The dream has been so comfortable, and calm. Realizing sleep would not return, she finally opened her eyes, blinking up at an unfamiliar ceiling. Turning her head she looked around her. It appeared she was in some kind of sitting room, but it was not her own. Heat from a roaring fire warmed her face and she turned towards it. The fireplace was large and ornately carved with swirling wooden hippogriffs standing proudly on each side. She stared at it curious where she was, although the warmth of the fire seemed so nice she didn’t want to worry too much. 

That though stopped her thought process. She was too calm, more than likely the effects of a powerful calming drought. Hermione sat up slowly, finding it hard to push her relaxed body upright.

“Careful, Miss. Granger.” Professor McGonagall's distressed voice came from the corner. 

 

“Give her space, Mineveria.” 

 

Hermione's head swiveled towards the sound and found several sets of eyes were fixed on her. Professor McGonagall was hovering a few feet away, looking distraught. Behind her Snape was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a strange look on his face. Hermione blushed remembering her dream. She tried to think of where she was and how she ended up there. Everything seemed rather fuzzy. She tested out her voice,

“What happened?” Her throat was horace like she had been screaming. 

 

McGonagall gasped softly and brought a hand up to her mouth, then looked back at the Headmaster. Hermione looked between them, realizing something must have been wrong, but the potion kept her anxiety under control. 

Snape pushed off the cabinet and continued staring at Hermione with his strange look as if he was deep in thought. She met his gaze, then finally he spoke. 

 

“Miss. Granger, do you have any recollection of your actions tonight?”

 

She thought back as far as she could remember of reality, pushing back her most recent dream. She knew she had a nightmare, and went for a walk, from there she wasn’t sure. 

“I, I’m not sure Headmaster.”

 

“I thought as much.” He replied rather quietly. 

 

McGonagall stepped closer, looking between Hermione and Snape once again. 

 

“We have to tell her Severus.”

 

He nodded, and the Gryffindor witch reached out for Hermione’s hand and sat next to her on the couch. 

“Dear girl, you stuned two Third years this evening. They were unarmed, simply sneaking up to the astronomy tower.” McGonagall said gently, squeezing her hand. 

 

Her mouth dropped open, but she couldn’t form words. The calming drought pushed down her anxiety quickly, but she still felt terrible. Surely there would be harsh punishment for this. The room fell in a heavy silence, with only the fire crackling. Hermione smoothed her hair back away from her face, and looked up at the Headmaster.  

 

“Am I expelled?” She whispered. 

 

“Certainly not! She can’t-” 

“Minerva,” Snape held up his palm, silencing the Professor. 

 

McGonagall frowned deeply, looking rather offended at the Headmasters hand.

 

“I need to speak to Miss. Granger. Alone.” Snape commanded. 

 

The color drained from McGonagall's face and Hermione’s stomach dropped to her knees.

 

“Severus-” Professor McGonagall began to protest. 

 

Snape raised a single eyebrow at the witch, effectively silencing her once again.  She closed her mouth into a tight line but stood. Hermione gave her a weak smile as the elder witch squeezed her hand in comfort before marching over to the fireplace. With a flash of green flames and the shout of her destination, she was gone. 

 

Hermione stared at the floor, not brave enough to look at the Headmaster. She heard him move across the room, glass clinking, a soft pop, and the sound of liquid being poured into a glass. Finally, she watched his feet under her lashes as he he came closer, stopping right in front of her. 

“Here.” Snape grumbled. 

Using every inch of her Gryffindor courage, she slowly looked up. Snape was holding out a crystal glass to her. Her hands shook as she accepted it from him, returning her eyes to the floor. 

 

“It’s more calming draught. Drink it.” 

 

Hermione watched his feet once again, as he walked over to the armchair adjacent to her and sat down. The shimmery liquid swirled in her glass as she brought it to her lips. It went down with a warm tingling sensation, and Hermione felt her shoulders relax instantly. She sat back in her chair, resting her head against the soft cushion and finally looking up. 

Snape had crossed one long leg over the other, and was staring into the fire stroking his upper lip with an index finger. She realized he had discarded his usual long black teaching robes, and was dressed in simple black trousers with a long sleeved black button up shirt. It made him look more normal, like a man, not like the heroic war hero, or the fierce potions master turned Headmaster. 

Hermione wondered if she should speak, although she wasn’t sure what to say. She was rather sure he was going to expel her, but thanks to the calming draught could think rather rationally about her options without panicking. More than likely she would be welcome back to the Burrow, Ron would be ecstatic-

“Have the flashbacks been increasing?”

 

The Headmaster’s voice interrupted her thoughts. Snape was staring at her rather intensely now, and Hermione flushed again. She had never told anyone of the flashbacks, determining when they started that they would soon stop. But they never did. 

She decided honesty would be the best way to proceed. 

 

“Yes, sir. They seem to be.”

 

Snape nodded slightly.

 

“Do you lose time or wake up in places you have no recollection of going?” His tone was low, without his usual bite. Hermione contemplated his question. 

 

“Sometimes. Tonight yes.” She whispered. 

 

He nodded again, as if he was checking off  questions in his own head. Then he stood, looming over her even from a few yards away. 

 

“You attacked two students tonight, while within a flashback,”

 

He paused, as she nodded glumly. She knew what was coming next. 

 

“I was forced to use Legilimency in order to protect you and other students tonight, and from what I saw I am deeply concerned Miss. Granger. You are a danger to yourself and anyone around you-”

 

Hermione couldn’t bear it any longer and interjected,

 

“I understand sir. I’ll pack my things.”

Snape raised an eyebrow high on his forehead, almost into his hairline. 

“As much as it would give me satisfaction to expel you, you shall remain here at Hogwarts.” He sneered, but it lacked his usual malice. 

 

Hermione's jaw dropped and her eyes nearly widened out of their sockets. 

 

“But you must learn to get control over your own mind Granger. The trauma of the war have turned you into a loaded cannon and you will be expelled if you continue to walk around stunning third years.” Snape turned away from her walking towards the fire. 

 

“How do I control them?” She croaked out, finally getting her voice to comply over the shock. 

Snape clasped his hands behind his back as he stared within the fire once more, looking deep in thought. The fire crackled softly, filling the silence.  Finally he turned his head slightly and sighed, 

“Have you ever studied Occlumency?”

 

“No, but I’ve read-”

“I’m sure you have. I mean actually practiced, not theory.” Snape snorted, and turned towards her. His eyes narrowed at her. 

“Theory can be just as informational as practice, in fact-”

 

The Headmaster nostrils flared and he cut her off once again,  

 

“Miss. Granger, I am sure you would even agree that when an opponent has their wand raised ready to kill you, you will not be relying on the theory of how to raise a shield charm but rather actually taking the action!” He fumed, voice raising. 

 

“But without theory first, how would one know how to even produce a shield charm?” She asked sweetly.

 

Snape opened his mouth, then shut it again. His face contorted in rage directed at the small witch in front of him. Hermione realized she should have been terrified, but in her calm state she found his reaction almost humorous. He wound up so easily when he realized he didn’t have an rebuttal. Perhaps he should be the one taking the calming draught, she thought. 

Hermione smiled at him then, a huge genuine smile, and watched in fascination as the Headmaster’s cheeks grew pink. Snape was blushing. Oh my, she thought to herself. Her smile faded as her stomach fluttered. The pink in his cheeks made Snape look so much younger, handsome even. Her heart began pounding as she held his dark eyes. 

Snape jerkily turned away from her, breaking eye contact and stalking towards the fire.

 

“Your a danger to this school and so until you prove that you can get a hold of your own mind, you will report to my office every evening at seven. And for your sake I do hope you have mastered your precious theory of the subject.” He practically hissed, before adding. “It’s late, go to bed Granger.”

 

Hermione had a million questions, but stood, knowing there was a hard limit to how much Snape’s temper would tolerate. She began to walk towards the door, when he snarled. 

“Use the floo, it’s the bloody middle of the night!”

 

She bit her lip to hold back a biting response and obediently turned and walked to the fire place. He was still fixed in the same position staring at the flames and Hermione had to stand nearly shoulder to shoulder with him to collect the floo powder and stand near the hearth. In her proximity she snuck a look at the Headmaster. His dark hair was veiling his face from her. She hadn’t realized it was so long. Nor had she realized how it slightly waved as it brushed his shoulders. For a brief second she wondered if it felt as silky as it looked. 

 

“Miss. Granger?”

 

Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin, as he suddenly said her name in a rather low tone. 

“Ye, yes?” Her tongue stumbled. 

 

“Do you recall any of the flashbacks you had tonight?” 

 

She did, one that she was not sure if it was a dream or flashback, in particularly clear detail. 

 

“Not really sir.” She lied. 

 

Snape made a small agreeing sound, then turned away from her. Hermione threw in the floo powder and stepped into the emerald flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Insert happy dance here* Finally finished this chapter! Sorry for the delay but I wanted to get it just right! Enjoy!


	6. Chapter Six: Sunshine Dreams

**Chapter Six: Sunshine Dreams**

     Hermione peeled her eyelids open and sat straight up in bed. She scanned the room around her carefully before finally settling back down onto her pillows. She had been having such wonderful sleep, so much so she wondered if the Calming Draught from last night had actually had been laced with Dreamless Sleep as well. What she couldn't determine was what woke her up. 

     Three loud raps on her door answered her question for her and she groaned while truding out of bed. Passing through the sitting room she noted it was only 8:15 and she had crawled into bed only a few hours ago at 4:45. The knocking continued, now in a steady stream, until she finally made it to the door and swung it open. 

          “Letters! From the boys!!”

 

     Ginny pushed past her, barging inside the small sitting room like an over excited owl. Hermione blinked looking out in the hallway. Sleep deprivation and being startled by the redheads sudden arrival froze her to the spot for several seconds before she finally closed the door. Turning into the sitting room, she wasn’t surprised to see Ginny practically bouncing on her couch, several pieces of parchment in her hand. Hermione walked over and sat next to her. 

          “Good morning to you too.” She mumbled. 

 

     Ginny looked at her oddly, but continued at a clipped pace. 

          “Morning. Here let's open then together! And here's your copy of the  _ Prophet _ ..” The redhead handed her in the semi crumpled envelope and paper. 

 

     Hermione grabbed them, watching Ginny expression humeriously as the girl ripped open her letter, before turning her eyes away to read her own. 

 

**Mione,**

**Merlin, I miss you! It was a hard week when you left. I hope you are happy in your apprenticeship and I can’t wait to see you at Christmas.**

**But been really busy with auror training. We’ve already been promoted to work in the field so I might not be able to write for the next few weeks.**

**I miss your kiss, and other things… Love you Mione.**

 

**Xxxx Ron**

 

     She re-read the short letter several times trying to will her heart to race or tears of loneliness fill her eyes like the ginger girl next to her. But she just felt nothing. Or well slight annoyance at his shallowness, even though she was sure Ron spent quite a while trying to be poetic. Hermione unfolded the  _ Daily Prophet  _ and scanned through the headlines. 

     Since the end of the war the  _ Prophet  _ seemed to have been scarce on material, so as usual there were several fluff pieces featuring heroes of the war. They also found a way to incorporate a story about Harry, usually false. Hermione was just reading about how Harry was soon to be promoted to lead Auror, when a small title in the bottom corner of the page caught her eye. The print was small, barely noticeable. 

**Damage to Hogsmeade’s Three Broomsticks**

**Pub owner Madam Rosmerta confirms rumors of break in late on Friday evening. Although nothing was missing, nor were there any witnesses to the event, some damage was reported to room 109. Madam Rosmerta issued the statement,**

**“It was just a smashed window and table, likely the result of a drunken night, nothing much to worry over. Now buy a drink or get out of my pub!”**

**The investigation is still ongoing to see if this break in is any connection to the break in this summer at Dervish and Banges.**

 

     Her mind whirled. Since the war there had been little to no crime reported, so while rather small it was still interesting. She tucked the information away in her mind as Ginny turned back to her, finally finished with Harry’s ridiculously long letter. 

          “You alright?” The redhead asked, wiping tears out of her own eyes. 

 

     Hermione strained very hard to make her voice sound thick with emotion.

 

          “Yes, it was good to hear from them. Is Harry being sent out into the field too?”

 

     Ginny nodded, and leaned back against the couch. 

 

          “He’s so happy training, but I just wish I could be out there too, not stuck being a student in this castle. This year is going by so slow.” 

 

     She huffed with her last comment, and Hermione nodded her head in agreement. Their conversation paused and Hermione yawned widely. 

          “You alright? You look exhausted!” Ginny turned, studying her with a look that reminded Hermione very much of Molly Weasley. 

     Hermione debated telling her about the events of last night but couldn’t decide how to even start the story. She recalled Snape’s offer, or well demand of Occlumency training, which would start tonight. It’s not like it was a secret, Hermione was sure the Headmaster would inform her other instructors, but oddly Hermione wanted to keep the trainings to herself. Her thoughts flashed back to a piece of a dream from last night, one she quickly squashed down before her facial expressions betrayed her thoughts and smiled weakly at the young witch. 

 

          “Fine, just busy as usual. I didn’t sleep much last night.” 

 

     Ginny reached over and squeezed her shoulder. 

          “It must be so hard being down here all on your own. Come stay with us in the tower tonight. We can nip down to the kitchens and grab some extra pudding.”

 

     Hermione smiled at her idea, but thought of her trainings later. Remembering back to Harry’s state during Occlumency lessons she wasn’t sure of the state she would be after words. 

 

          “I have to catch up on homework, but maybe next weekend Gin.” She grabbed the young witches hand.

 

     Ginny looked at her strangely for a brief second, then stood up, hauling Hermione up with her. 

 

          “Let’s go to breakfast, come on!” Hermione nodded, and ran to change. 

 

     Despite being exhausted, the day went by pleasantly. Keeping company with Ginny always put her in a great mood. After breakfast they wandered down to the lake with a small group of Gryffindors. The weather for mid September was warm and glorious, Hermione shed her robe and slung it over her shoulders. The group settled around the lake, laughing at a quidditch story Ginny had been telling and sitting on their robes like picnic blankets. 

 

          “So, Hermione,  how are you liking your apprenticeship so far?” Leo, an ashy blond seventh year asked her with a charming smile.

 

          “It’s been great so far. Professor Slughorn has really given me freedom to work and I’ll be starting up on a personal brewing project soon.”

 

          “What are you thinking for your project?” Ginny asked.

 

          “I’m not sure just yet. I’ve still been brainstorming some ideas.”

 

     In truth Hermione hardly had any ideas yet of what to brew. Slughorn had suggested picking something that would be challenging, yet manageable with her already full schedule. Last week she had spent hours in the restricted section looking for a challenging brew, but had come up empty. Luckily the conversation turned back to quidditch and the upcoming match against Hufflepuff so Hermione tried to free her mind of her brewing project by pulling out a book from her bag. 

     A piece of grass flicked against her cheek, startling her. She looked up to see Ginny and Leo grinning at her, grass in their fingers. 

 

          “Haven’t you finished that book yet, it’s only been what 7 years?” Ginny jested. 

 

     Hermione looked down at  _ Hogwarts a History _ and returned their grinns. 

          “It’s my favorite.”

 

     They rolled their eyes but left her to her reading. She yawned widely, rather relaxed in the afternoon sun, and laid down propping her head up on her bookbag. Around her her friends roared in laughter once more at someones jokes. Her eyes slowly slid unfocused from the words on the page and began to close. It was so lovely and warm. 

      _She took a deep breath and made her choice. She had been up pacing around the sitting room for at least an hour, trying every strategy he had taught her and the visions would still not release her from their torment. Hermione took long strides to the door and noticed a thin strip of dim light coming from under the frame. He must still be up. She raised her hand to knock._

_      Dark mist surrounded her and the dream changed. Hermione brought her hands to her face, trying to conceal the tears that had escaped. Her whole body was trembling, and she brought her knees up to her trying to curl in a ball. A hand tentatively touched her back, a thumb rubbing featherlight. A sliver of tension released from her shoulders as the thumb traced a back and forth motion through her thin nightshirt. Hermione released her hands from her face and looked over to the man sitting next to her. The Headmaster’s hand paused it’s motion, and for a split second he looked like a startled stag in headlights. Snape quickly controlled his expression back to it’s usual indifference and removed his hand.  _

_      On impulse she let herself  lean over and rest against his side with her face buried into his shoulder. He stiffened alarmed, but not daring to back out now she snaked her arms around his neck in a fierce hug. Hermione held her breath as one arm slowly wrapped around her back.  _

_      She sighed into the contact, her tears had ceased. Her hands dropped to his chest. They were still for a while, and Hermione’s heart began racing through her chest. The senses in her fingertips heightened to the hard flesh just underneath the cool layer of his button down shirt, and she could feel his heartbeat. Her mind was betraying her again, with thought, ideas. She should shove them back behind her walls where they belong, but with such proximity she wasn’t strong enough to do so. _

_      Hermione pulled her head back to look at him. Snape’s eyes were darker than she had ever seen, his irises almost matching his pupils which were quickly dilating with her eye contact. The intensity of their stare radiated magic throughout the room, Hermione could hear it’s hum and feel it’s tingle within her stomach. Snape could feel it too and her insides did a flop as his lips parted slightly.   _

_      She leaned in ever so slightly, and he raised an eyebrow. Hermione could practically hear his thoughts of panic. She was losing him. Without hesitation she leaned a and pressed her lips against his firmly. Snape jolted at the contact and pulled back completely out of her embrace.  _

_      Hermione sat frozen to the spot mortified, expecting him to yell, or throw her out. But he had stilled once more and remained silent, searching her face with sharply intelligent eyes. She felt like crying again.  _

_           “I’m, I’m sorry. So sorry. Sev- sir.” She whispered and lowered her eyes to the floor.  _

_      A calloused hand cupped her cheek bringing her gaze back to him.  _

_           “Say it.” He demanded, his voice silky. His eyes turned dark and dangerous.  _

_      She swallowed nervously.  _

_           “Say what?”  _

_           “My name.” His breath brushed her cheeks they were so close.  _

_      Hermione took a deep breath,  _

_           “Sev-” _

_      He cut her off, pressing his lips to hers this time. The sensation electrified every nerve inside of her, and she returned the kiss fervorously. It was a mixture of soft and a hardness. Hands tangled in her hair, while her own wrapped around his neck once again. The magic hummed louder around them drowning out all else.  _

 

          “Mione! Wake up!”

     Hermione jolted awake, completely flustered and tense with Ginny smiling down at her. She had been dreaming about Snape. Hermione flushed again. And it had seemed so real. So real her stomach was still in butterflies. When had she ever thought that way about Snape? Sure, she had always held him at the highest respect even when others questioned her. And she had a part in saving him not so long ago. But kissing him. 

 

          “Are you alright? You look a little flushed. Dreaming about Won Won?” Ginny teased in a fit of giggles. 

 

     Hermione blanched as Ginny’s comment felt like a sharp slap of reality. She should be dreaming about Ron. Not the Headmaster. But his lips had been so soft. In the dream. It was just a dream. She squeezed her eyes shut trying to erase her mind, only to pop them open once more with a disturbing revelation. 

          “What time is it?” She asked the group. 

     Several glanced down at their watches, but Leo spoke first. 

          “A little past noon. You were out for a bit there, you must be knackered with your crazy workload” 

     Hermione barely heard him. A little past noon meant she only had around 6 hours before her Occlumency lesson. A lesson where the Headmaster would be entering her thoughts and more than likely seeing visions and worse feelings of her dream. Panic rose like a magma bubble.

     Hermione sprang up, snatching her bag and her robe, then took off in a full sprint towards the castle.  

          “I have to go to the library!” She yelled behind her without stopping, not even hearing their laughter.  

     She couldn’t imagine what Snape’s reaction would be if he found out. The only thing she could do to keep him out would be to learn as much as possible about Occlumency before the lesson. She replayed her and the Headmaster’s argument about the usefulness of theory vs practice in her head and prayed that this time she was right. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bah real life keeps getting in the way of writing time. Thank you for being patient! You guys are the best! Enjoy!!!


	7. Chapter Seven: First Lesson

**Chapter Seven: First Lesson**

     Her mind was a blank slate. Clear of all thoughts, emotions, memories. Hermione breathed deeply and continued focusing. She was a blank page of a book. Crisp white parchment blank of any marks. 

          “Oi, what time is it?”

 

     Blank page. Blank sheet. 

 

          “Blimey, its quarter till 7! We’ve been here for ages and I still haven’t got barely eight inches of this potions essay!”

 

     Hermione’s eyes flew open wide. Almost seven. She jumped out of her seat, causing a startled cry  from the whispering second years behind her. Frantically she flicked her wand and sent her pile of books streaking back to their places among the shelves. Shoving her notes into her bag she set off towards the Headmaster’s office as a brisk jog. Cursing the castle for being so expansive she checked her watch. Only eleven minutes to go. She sped up. Thankfully most of the students were still in the Great Hall for dinner, so there were hardly anyone in the halls. Nine minutes to go, Hermione sped up to a full run. Her heart was beating frantically due to exertion and nerves. Blank page. She was a blank page. 

     With only a minute left to spare she skidded to a halt in front of the familiar stone gargoyle. She sucked in a large gulp of air and struggled to remember all she had researched in the last few hours. She just had to keep Snape out of certain memories. Just keep out one of the most talented Occlumens in history. 

          “Right.” She mumbled out loud and summoned every ounce of Gryffindor bravery she could. 

          “Gobstones.”

     The gargoyle sprang back and the staircase appeared before her. From the grounds the clock began ringing the hour. Hermione took the stairs two at a time. On the last step, she hooked her toe on the stone. Falling, she yelped and grabbed onto the door handle, then literally crashed through the door. Her bag went flying off her shoulder, and she landed rather painfully, her forearm taking most of the weight. 

          “Shit!” She exclaimed. 

 

          “Miss.Granger!”

 

          “Hermione!”

 

     Thick brown curls obscured her vision when she raised her head, but she saw enough to realize who beside the Headmaster who had spoke. Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic himself,  was on his feet heading towards her looking worried. He held out a sturdy hand and helped her haul herself upright. Hermione’s cheeks were flaming hot with mortification of her clumsiness and expletive.

 

          “Er, hello Minister. Headmaster. I’m sorry for the intrusion.” 

 

     She braved a glance at Snape. He looked positively livid, with both nostrils flaring, and black eyes flashing. He opened his mouth, no doubt to throw a cutting remark, but Kingsley beat him to speaking.

 

          “Are you alright? It looks like you landed on your arm funny.”

 

     Hermione tested out her arm, bending it by the elbow and wrist. 

          “I’m fine, it will just be a bruise.” 

 

     Kingsley smiled brightly at her once again, and helped her over to one of the emerald high backed armchairs. They sat at Hermione took a chance to catch her breath and reorganize her bag. The Minister spoke once again. 

          “Well, I am glad you are here. Severus and I were just discussing your apprenticeship. He has spoken very highly of your work and intelligence. Of course you are Hermione Granger. The whole world knows who you are!” 

     Hermione’s cheeks went red, and she snapped her eyes up immediately to the Headmaster. She swore she saw a tiny shade of pink on his high cheekbones before he bore his teeth, sneering at her.

          “Perhaps we should spare the girl from adding to her ego, if it gets any larger her head might not fit through the door.” He snarled, staring right at her as if challenging her to look away. 

 

     She narrowed her eyes, but kept them trained on his. Beside her Shacklebolt barked out in laughter. 

          “Severus, can you still not ever claim a compliment has come from you? Forever the feared Potions Master!” 

 

     Snape’s eyes flashed to the Minister now, his lips tightening into a thin line. Kingley only laughed more, turning back to Hermione next to him. 

 

          “Anyway, as I have said I am glad you are here. I know it has been a tough recovery for you. I am so sorry for the pain this war has caused you. Weasley informed me of your inability to restore your parents memory”  His face turned to pity, and he paused. 

 

     Hermione's throat tightened and she cursed Ron Weasley. That was not his secret to share. Tears pricked behind her eyes, but she held strong. Looking away from the Minister, she watched as Snape sit and steepled his fingers resting them against his lips. Kingsley continued, 

          “As I am sure you know, since the end of the war we have been working tirelessly to ensure all of Voldemort’s supporters are properly brought to justice. So far we have had great success in it. However,”  

     The Minister stopped once again, clearing his throat softly. A single eyebrow lifted on Snape’s forehead.

          “However, I wanted to be the one to tell you myself.” She heard him inhale 

deeply. 

          “In the aftermath of the war a few have slipped out of the grasp of our hands. Most notably, Doloholv and the Lestrange brothers.”

 

     Hermione felt a sharp dizziness behind her skull with the mention of Lestrange. Foggy memories began to trigger once again in her mind, but she squashed them down tightly. Kingsley gave her a sympathetic look, and she knew instantly that was not the end of it. 

 

          “We also have reason to believe that,” He took another deep breath, “we believe that Bellatrix Lestrange might still be alive.” 

 

     The blood rushed to her head and Hermione could no longer hear anything but her own racing heartbeat. Blank page, blank page, she kept reminding herself, but images escaped through. The sound of wild evil laughter was surrounding her. 

          “ _ Filthy little Mudblood!” _

 

          “Hermione?” 

     A hand was resting on her shoulder, bringing her back to the present. The sound of the room slowly returned. The Minister was on his feet, looking at her extremely concerned. Hermione’s eyes were drawn to the Headmasters, who had moved around his desk towards her. Snape stared back intensely with an odd expression, making her stomach flip. She looked away. 

          “I realize this must be a shock. I understand the effects of the war have been wearing on you.” Shacklebolt, squeezed her shoulder in support. 

 

     Hermione nodded, struggling to regain control over her reaction. She counted her breathing, which helped. 

          “We have sent our best and brightest Aurors, including Potter and Weasley to hunt them down. We will find them. And you are safe here at Hogwarts.” The Minister added. 

     Hermione stilled.

     Harry and Ron out there. Safe at Hogwarts. White hot rage lit up inside her like a torch. She was Hermione Granger. Without her the boys had barely survived. She was a war hero. And now Kingsley Shacklebolt, whom she had fought aside with just months ago was here treating her like a broken china doll. Anger rolling like a tide, she began to open her mouth to speak. 

          “How-”

          “Minister, I think Miss. Granger will need some time to process this. Perhaps it is best to leave things at this for tonight.” Snape interrupted, shooting her an odd expression  before striding over and holding out a hand to the Minister. 

     Kingsley, released her shoulder with another gentle squeeze and a smile of pity before turning to shake Snape's hand.

          “Yes, of course. Of course. It was good to see you Severus. And you Hermione. I’ll keep you updated on the search.”

          “Thank you.” Snape murmured, lips barely moving. 

    Both men walked towards the fireplace, exchanging words too low for her to hear. Hermione stared back at the giant Headmaster’s desk in front of her, mind and emotions swirling. 

          “It was good to see you Hermione. Take care of yourself.” The Minister called back.

     She didn’t respond, but heard the roar of the flames signaling his departure. The memories were getting harder to hold back. She sucked in breath, suddenly breathing hard. The dizziness returned, she could only see Bellatrix’s face swimming in front of her.

          “Pull yourself together, girl!” The Headmaster snapped, his voice and hand yanking her out of her mind and seat. 

          “OW! Let go of me!” 

     He released her immediately, his dark robes swirling around him as he spun to face her. She took a step back when he pulled his wand from his sleeve. 

          “Now I assume our world famous Little Know-it-All has had her head stuck in a book and is now prepared for our lesson. Let us find out. Legilimens.”

_      A bright wave of light obscured her vision, then she was flat on her back. The hard wooden floors of Malfoy Manor were beneath her, and the weight Bellatrix Lestrange was upon her. Hermione screamed in pain, as her forearm was being ripped apart.  _

     No, she couldn’t let him see what was on her arm. Blank page, open a blank page. 

      _Hermione lifted her head slightly trying to see what the pain was. Her arm was gushing blood, but the vision was becoming blurry in front of her. The whole scene was starting to blur._

     Blank page. She was so close. 

_      She felt a pressure, as light as a shadow, struggling to remain within the vision.  _

_           “Mudblood whore. Maybe I should let the stupid wolf come have his fun”  _

_      White hot pain and panic evoked screams once more from her.  _

    Blank page. Something happy. Anything but this. 

_      Blinding light flashed once more, and she was in front of a door. Her heart raced in her chest but not in pain or panic. A thin strip of light was visible underneath the frame, and she brought her hand up and knocked.  _

     No. She knew who was behind that door. Deep inside, she felt a vibration of her magic. She willed all her strength to turn the page.

      _Footsteps were nearing, she held her breath, waiting for him._

     With a flash of light, Hermione felt an invisible power push her backwards. She landed hard on her backside on the stone floor of the Headmaster’s office. Realizing what she had done, a triumphantly smug grin took over her lips. It quickly dissipated as she looked up at Snape. He stood at full height, wand still raised. The only sign of a struggle was a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead.

          “Get up. Again.” 

     She watched, unbelieving, then stood up. Without warning, and wordlessly light flashed then he was inside her mind once again. 

      _Hermione was running for her life, the taunts of the snatchers calling behind her. Her lungs were screaming for air, but she kept going as fast as her feet would take her. A curse rebounded off a tree next to her, and she screamed._

     Like before she began to fight back for control of her mind.

           _“Crucio!”_

_      White hot pain radiated across every inch of her. Tears filled her eyes, as she let her head fall to the side. Her forearm was still bleeding. She watched as a crimson drop fell to the  _ _floor._

     No. He couldn't see. 

_      The scene changed. The door was in front of her, footsteps near. The handle turned and began opening.  _

     Her magic once again flared deep in her and with all her strength she willed him out of her mind. With another flash of light, she was once again knocked backwards. This time she landed flat on her back staring up at the high ceiling. Taking a shaky breath, she propped up on her elbows and struggled back to her feet. The exhaustion of the day sank deep in her bones. Still, she raised her chin and looked straight into the Headmasters eyes. 

     Snape was staring at her intently, with the same odd expression as before. He was breathing heavier than normal, and looked like he had been pushed back a few feet. She bit her lip, waiting. 

          “Again.” He muttered, wand raising.

     She was so tired. 

_      Running. Always running.  _

_      Pain. Always pain.  _

_      She heard Bellatrix’s laughter high above her. Voldemort’s red eyes staring into her soul.  _

_      Blood. So much blood.  _

_      Hermione pressed her hands tightly to his severed neck, trying to stop the blood. She was losing him.  _

_           “Stay with me please, Severus.” _

_      But the light never came, instead only darkness.  _

 

     The darkness surrounded her, she felt herself falling. Then there was nothing.


	8. Chapter Eight: Headmaster's Orders

**Chapter Eight: Headmaster’s Orders**

     Hermione scrunched up her nose as it was suddenly filled with something harsh and salty. She gasped for air. Once again Hermione found herself flat on her back in the Headmaster’s office. 

     She sensed movement above her, and her eyes flew open wide in panic expecting to find the wild and deranged eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange. Instead, she found intelligent obsidian eyes leaning over her. He was holding a vial of what she assumed was a magical smelling salt. 

     Hermione’s breath was taken away for a second time, although for a whole new reason. Snape’s face was bent close to hers, his long hair falling around his face. This close she could see how fine the dark locks were. He held her eye contact without his usual anger or arrogance. Instead he simply stared. An oddly familiar bubble of feeling swelled within her core as she analyzed the angles of his cheekbones. A magical hum suddenly filled the room and she wanted nothing more in the world, than for him to lean in closer. 

     Snape’s eyes suddenly flashed with recognition of the situation, and he sprang himself upright backing away till he was safely behind the expansive Headmaster's desk. His usual controlled and blank expression returned, and he cleared his throat. 

          “Tomorrow. Seven. Maybe you will be more successful. For the mean time, you heard the Minister, you’ll be safe in the castle.”

     Hermione’s jaw dropped as she watched him pick up a piece of parchment and began to read, dismissing her completely. 

     More successful. How ever could she be more successful. The man was insufferable. What better could she do, for never having practiced Occlumency before. And stay in the castle. Like she was a small child who needed protection. She should be out there. Broken mind or not, she should be out there with Harry and Ron. Finishing what they started. Suddenly, she regretted her decision in coming back, turning down the Ministry. She showed weakness and took the easy way out. 

     Her fist balled as she stood up, and stomped over to his desk. 

          “I am not a bloody child! And I fought you out of my head!” 

     His black eyes continued scanning the page, ignoring her. Once again her jaw began to drop in outrage. 

          “Headmaster, I know you heard me. I am not a child. I don’t, I can’t jut sit here.”

     The man still hardly moved, only to set down one parchment and pick up another. 

          “Headmaster.”

     Nothing, no movement. Anger filled her whole being till she was almost shaking. She was not worthless. Hermione withdrew her wand from her sleeve. With a flick of her wand, the papers flew from his hand. 

     Snape’s eyes traveled to the hand that once held parchment. Then slid slowly up to meet hers. He stood up, equally as slow, till he had risen to his full height, which Hermione had forgotten, was quite tall. She should have shown regret, apologize for her actions and rudeness. Never had she had the courage to stand up to a teacher, but the rush swirling through her of the past few minutes made her feel more than she had in months. 

     She rolled her shoulders back and faced him head on. 

          “I can help them find her. I wish to leave my position as apprentice-”

      He interrupted, hissing through gritted teeth. 

          “Stupid girl. You will stay here. Minister’s orders, and now Headmaster’s orders. Now. Sit. Down.”

    Hermione might have been stubborn but she was never stupid. Still she sat down instantly. Above her Snape exhaled loudly, nostrils flaring. 

          “From now on you will follow the same curfew as students-”

           “What! I just told you I wish to leave my position-” 

          “SILENCE!”

     Hermione was on her feet once again. 

          “NO! I am not a child, how many times do I-”

          “For someone so resolute in claiming you are not a child, you are certainly acting like a brat who isn’t getting their way. Although I should hardly be surprised, it is your typical mode of operation.” He spat.

     She slammed her hands down on his desk, and he raised an eyebrow continuing as if she didn’t exist,  

          “My point in case. Now as I was saying, you will no longer be allowed on the grounds without a chaperone, as well-”

     Hermione nearly radiated out of her skin in anger, her voice raising to a shrill controlled scream,

          “Is this your punishment? I apologize, but you know I didn't mean to attack those students. But this is unfair and unwarranted. And I wish to leave my positio-”

      Snape’s eyes flashed in a brief second of uncontrol, 

          “Unwarranted? Miss. Granger- ”

      She knew it was coming, and knew she should restrain it. But instead she let it go, cutting him off. 

          “You owe me.” 

     Hermione had seen Severus Snape angry before. She had witnessed first hand during the war what the man was capable of. But she had never seen such rage possess a person's face before. 

     Snape’s eyes raged like storm clouds, blacker than night, and narrowed. A deep purple vein throbbing in forehead near his hairline and his lips slowly pulled back over his teeth in a tight snaral. He wand was suddenly in his hand, green sparks flying wildly from it. Hermione took a step back, her eyes widening. She watched as he leaned in over the desk, placing both hands wide on its surface, wand still in hand pointing directly at her. She felt herself shrinking with fear. When he spoke, she expected yells. But his voice was barely over a whisper, and much more frightening. 

          “I owe you  _ nothing, _ Miss. Granger. You will remain at Hogwarts. You will remain in your apprenticeship until you complete your N.E.W.T.S. Now get out, and never set foot in my office again.” 

     With her heart beating wildly in her chest, she turned and ran as fast as she could out the door. She didn’t stop until she was safe behind her bedroom door, her wards up and humming. It was only then did she sink to the floor, realizing tears were spilling from her eyes. The rollercoaster of the day finally set upon her mind, and she resigned herself to let her heavy sobs flow. 

      She cried for her broken mind. She cried for the unfairness of being treated like she was incapable. She cried from the words of Headmaster. She cried for her parents, and for all those they had lost in the war. She cried for being reduced to tears. She cried until she had no more tears left to cry. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, I wanted to get this chapter up early since I left you hanging on the last one! ;) Happy Thanksgiving everyone!


	9. Chapter Nine: A Plan

**Chapter Nine: A Plan**

     The clock in the sitting room began to chime. She counted ten before it silenced. Looking around the bare room, she felt calmer than she had in awhile. Harry had always encouraged her to cry. He said it helped more than anything. And sure she had cried a lot since the end of the war, but it had never been the intense sobs she just experienced. It felt good in a way. Dragging herself up from the floor, she migrated towards the shower.

     Deep in thought she turned on the taps, waiting for the water to warm. How was it possible the evil woman was still alive? Ginny had told her of her death, Molly Weasley proving her love of her daughter in the most extreme way. War turned even the most gentle into capable killers. Herself included.

     The steam filled the room and she undressed stepping into the showers warm embrace. Hermione fell into her routine, shampooing, scrubbing. If Lestrange was alive surely her purpose would be to finish Voldemort’s mission. Pure-blood rule. Death, destruction to all Muggles, especially Muggle-borns. Absentmindedly she stroked the scarred word that ran down her forearm. The warm water ran down her shoulders, distracting her from her troubled thoughts.

     Hermione sighed. There was no use thinking any more tonight, her mind was as exhausted as her body. She concluded her shower, turning off the taps and summoning her wand wordlessly. With quick drying spell to her hair, she wrapped her fluffy red robe around her. What she needed now was some sleep. She made her way to her loving bed, and prayed to Merlin for a dreamless sleep.

     Casting a warming charm before setting her wand on the nightstand, she crawled into the toasty sheets.

          “Nox” She whispered.

     Closing her eyes, Hermione tried to ignore the image of Snape’s furious gaze swimming behind her eyelids. The man was infuriating, never showing an inch of kindness to anyone, especially her. But then there was the moment after she woke, when he had stared at her. It was a moment of peace between them, maybe even more.

     No. He was just a plain mean man. Nothing more. She was just exhausted. Needed sleep. Hermione remembered her practice of blanking her mind. Breathing in for a count of four. Holding it for four. Releasing it for a count of four.

     Sleep finally took pity on her.

~

     Hermione woke fitfully, fighting with a tangle of sheets. Her eyes flew open, and she caught her breath. She sat there for several minutes, regaining control of herself before finally clambering out of bed. As she dressed, she thought back to the events of the past 24 hours. Death Eaters at large, Harry and Ron out there searching without her, Minister and Headmaster treating her as incapable. The Headmaster’s Occlumency lesson. The Headmaster’s odd reaction when she passed out then woke up. The way the Headmaster’s hair fell around his cheeks as he stared down at her. The fire and ice behind his eyes when he was angry.

          “Focus, Hermione.” She muttered to herself, her cheeks flushing before frowning. Grabbing her wand and bag she headed towards the Great Hall.

     With every step she gained confidence in her plan. Hermione was always the one with a plan. Plans kept her focused. What she needed was a way to prove herself. Again. A way to show the arrogant and impossible Severus Snape that she was a capable fully grown witch. But how.

     In her determination, Hermione hardly noticed where she was going and walked right into two tall figures. She looked up and immediately whipped her wand from her sleeve, fixing it on the men in front of her.

          “Well, well, well Miss. Granger. This is a surprise.”

     Lucius Malfoy smiled icily at her. Draco Malfoy at his side, staring at her. Hermione did not lower her wand.

          “What are you doing here?” She purposely kept her voice void of emotion.  

     Malfoy Senior looked from her wand to her face, still smiling.

          “Not that it is any of your business, we are here to see the Headmaster. Ah here is the man himself now.”

     Hermione jumped and lowered her wand as footsteps sounded behind her. Still she never let her eyes leave the Malfoys. Lucius smiled more genuinely, and stepped around her. Draco continued to stare her a few moments longer, before nodding and following his father to meet the Headmaster.

          “Severus! Good to see you.”

     She turned and watched as the men shook hands and exchanged greetings. Snape greeted them warmly, even smiling. Then his eyes panned to her, his smile disappeared. His eyes flashed over hers with a cool glance, before he turned and led the Malfoys towards his office corridor, ignoring her completely.  

     Hermione watched until they disappeared down the hall. She could take his cold shoulder much easier than angry Snape. But now with the appearance of the Headmaster’s new guests she was even more puzzled than before. Why were the Malfoy’s here. It could hardly a coincidence with the reappearance of Bellatrix and now the Malfoys.

     She stopped frozen in the middle of the hallway with her thought. That was it, her answer. It was so simple.

          She could find Dolohov, and the Lestranges. She could find Bellatrix. On her own.

     Suddenly resolved with the idea, she turned on her heel back towards the Headmaster’s office. Whatever reason the Malfoys were here for had to be something to do with the missing Death Eaters. Perhaps they even knew where they were. Hermione wouldn’t even put it past them to be hiding the murderers. But why would Snape be inviting them here, unless.

     The Headmaster was looking for them as well. Of course, it would make sense to bring Lucius in. He held secrets until someone had the right price. And the Malfoys were a proud family that fell quite hard after the war. She had heard rumors that Draco was going to return to Hogwarts for his N.E.W.T.S, but obviously that was untrue. Unless that was the reason of their visit today. But again, it was too much of a coincidence.

          “Hermione! There you are!”

     Ginny’s voice from down the hall caused her to jump. The redhead caught up to her, grabbing her arm.

          “You’ve nearly missed breakfast, but I snagged you some toast.”

     With one fleeing look back at the Headmasters office, she grabbed Ginny’s hand.

          “I have to tell you something.”

     Sensing her urgency, Ginny nodded and steered her towards an empty classroom down the hallway. Once safely inside and a muffliato charm securely around them just in case Hermione started her tale, beginning with the Minister’s visit. She tried not to leave much out, but when it came to her Occlumency lessons, she quickly bypassed that area of the story. Instead making it seem like she had been summoned there just for the Minister’s visit. Hermione also left out the real reason the Headmaster was so angry, substituting it for her suggestion to leave her apprentice position. Finally, finishing with the morning’s new evidence with the Malfoys appearance, she felt quite drained.

     Ginny sank down onto one of the desks, thinking hard. Hermione gave her space, thinking herself about the next steps. Based on the Headmaster’s warnings, she would have to conduct her search from the castle. No matter, she had tracked down Horcruxes from less.

          “Harry and Ron are out there now? That was their field training?” The redhead pipped up.

     Hermione nodded.

          “And the Minister and Headmaster wants you here?”

     She nodded again. Ginny’s face scrunched up.

          “Well that’s just ridiculous! You are the reason those two have survived as long as they have! I’m sorry, I love Harry and Ron but sometimes they can be so dense.”

     Hermione could have kissed the young girl, but pulled her hand over into a tight squeeze. At least she could always count on Ginny to help mend her wounded Gryffindor pride.

          “Gin, I just know there has to be a connection to the Malfoys being here. Maybe they know where Lestrange is. But I’m not sure what to do, now. I’ve never seen Snape so angry.”

     They sat quietly for a few moments, listening to the distant shouting and chatting outside of students.

          “So you’re going to find them aren’t you?” Ginny asked quietly, looking at her sideways with a sly smile.

     Hermione couldn’t help but smile back and knew better than to deny it,

          “Yes, I’m going to try.”

     Ginny stood up, and brushed off her robes.

          “Well, where do we start? Wait. That’s a stupid question. The library, right?”

      Laughing was a warm change to her recent moods, and Hermione let it flow freely. Soon, Ginny joined in until they were doubled over in giggles. Having Ginny on board relieved some of the pressure in her chest. What they needed now was a plan.

     As their laughter died down, Hermione summoned a bit of parchment and a quill from her bag. She waved her wand over the page, charming it from any prying eyes, then sat down.

          “I’m thinking we can start with some questions. What do we need to know and find out as a guiding point. My first question is how is Bellatrix alive or how was she able to survive?”

     Hermione jotted her question down in her typical rushed but orderly handwriting. Ginny leaned over, tapping her chin with her wand in thought.

          “Good one. What about where or who would be close enough to hide them?”

     Nodding, Hermione wrote it down. Ginny stopped tapping suddenly and added,

          “Ah! Also, what are their plans. Are they going to lay low and survive, or will they try and pick up where Voldemort left off.”

          “That’s probably the most pressing question of all.” Hermione agreed.

     Looking at the list, she numbered them 1-3.

          “I think we should start with these. And if by some chance we find some answers, these would be more than enough to help track them down.”

     Standing, Hermione rolled up the parchment and tucked it into her bag.

          “Let me guess,” The redhead smiled wide once again, “To the library?”

     Hermione made a dramatic bow, waving towards the door.

          “After you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Again! :) I'm somehow on a writing roll so lets hope my muse doesn't leave anytime soon! I am so thankful for my wonderful readers and your amazing comments! Thank you x a billon!


	10. Chapter Ten: Halloween

**Chapter Ten: Halloween**

     The days began flying by, and Hermione found herself busier than ever. Her hours were filled with her incredibly strict N.E.W.T study schedule, classes, apprenticeship brewing and studying, and whatever time she had left she had devoted to her search for the missing Death Eaters. By Halloween she was running on very little sleep, and her anxiety was starting to present itself physically. Although always careful, she was becoming downright jumpy, flinching at even the smallest sounds. On her way down to breakfast, she nearly toppled over, and hexed a Slytherin first year when they came up behind her and tried to pass in the hallway. 

     After a quick meal, and the usual bickering with Ginny about the state of her self care, Hermione settled into her usual corner of the restricted section of the library. It was one of the quietest area in the library, and she had spent every spare moment that she could there. 

     Over the past few weeks she had made little discovery. She had been searching all she could through the restricted section on the Lestrange family, and although she found quite a bit about the Pureblood line, nothing stood out to her that could help. She did find that the Lestrange family had a long line of Dark wizards and witches. Many of the stories had been cruel, evil, or downright disturbing. Today she was finishing up reading of several marriages between cousins, as well as forced marriages under the Imperius Curse. Hermione shut the book with a snap, and yawned widely. 

     It was a chilly day, and the heat from the library fireplaces didn’t reach all the way to the restricted section, so she had been getting into the habit of casting a warming charm on her robes. She wrapped her cozy robes closer around her and blankly stared at the shelves. Her thoughts traveled back, as they often did, to her last encounter with the headmaster. 

_           I owe you nothing. _

     Even though completely alone, her cheeks burned with embarrassment. She had no right to say the words she did, she knew the minute they escaped her lips. She had acted, well like a Slytherin, holding the fact that she had saved his life as leverage. Hermione yawned again. She really should look into perhaps some sort of support to help her through the trauma of the war. It was affecting even her personality. She blinked, staring blankly at the shelves for a few minutes more. What she really should do was get back to work. 

     Pulling an overlarge book of Pureblood family trees out of the massive research pile she had next to her, she flipped once again to the Lestrange family. Tracing the lines, back and forth, her eyes began to droop. Her robe was rather quite comfortable, and warm. It reminded her of being tucked into her childhood bed with a heated blanket, hot chocolate, and a good book. Her eyelids seemed so heavy. The words blurred in front of her. Her eyelids drooped closed. 

 

_           “I’m still so sorry we couldn’t be more of service to you Severus. I am just as anxious as you I’m sure to see some peace finally.” _

_      Lucius Malfoy smiled, showing off his polished and straight teeth. Snape nodded then stood from behind the desk, walking towards his guests. He shook Lucius’s then Draco’s hands firmly.  _

_           “I do appreciate your time. I have some spare time before the feast, I can walk you to the gates.” _

_           “Ah, excellent. Shall we. Come Draco.” _

_      The three men headed out of the office, and rather silently down the corridor towards the castles main entrance. They past a small group of students heading towards the Great Hall. After exiting the main door, Lucius turned towards the Headmaster.  _

_           “Severus, surely that wasn’t Hermione Granger back there?”  _

_      The Headmaster’s right eyebrow shot up, questioningly.  _

_           “Yes, I think it was Father.” Draco answered.  _

_           “Why, she looks so different. So sickly almost. A pity really, She was quite a ravishing girl if I remember.” Lucius clicked his tongue behind his teeth in noise of disapproval.  _

_           “If by ravishing you meant an annoyingly know-it-all brat I suppose.” Snape muttered, making Draco laugh quite hard.  _

_      Lucius chuckled lightly, but still pressed on.  _

_           “Oh come now, don’t tell me the great beauty and sensuality of the girl hasn’t come across your mind Severus. I remember catching a glimpse of her during battle, her face was practically glowing as she was throwing hex after hex. Her shirt was quite ripped apart too, you could finally see what curves she had been hiding-” _

_           “She is a student, and I do not nor have ever thought of a student in that way.” Snape cut him off, hissing.  _

_           “I’m sure. That is why your cheeks are so red” Lucius muttered sarcastically, shooting his son a glance.  _

_      Snape increased the speed, walking in front of them, his cheeks indeed turning pink. Finally they passed the gates finally where they could apparate. Both Draco and Lucius turned to face the Headmaster, shaking hands once again.  _

_           “Well help or not, we appreciate your hospitality.” Lucius purred, smiling rather widely at Snape. _

_           “Of course. Good night.” Nodding, Snape turned to head back to the castle.  _

_      The night was cold, and his breath swirled like fog around him as he took a step.  _

_           “Oh, Severus!” Lucius called behind him.  _

_      Snape stopped and turned, muttering something about being late to the feast.  _

_           “It really is a pity you don’t see the potential of Granger. She will be so exciting to watch as we torment her then kill her. Bella even promised me a chance to experience those curves first hand.” _

_      Snape went stone still, his face draining of color with Lucius’s words. The blond man cackled in a laughter that sounded so harsh and cruel it was almost forigin for his aristocratic features. Recognition splayed over the Headmaster’s face. Snape immediately went to raise his wand, but Draco was too quick.  _

_           “Expelliarmus!”  _

_      Snape’s wand flew into the man’s outstretched hand. Lucius laughed louder.  _

_           “You’ve gone soft Severus. Weak and slow. You thought your betrayal would go unpunished. That with the fall of the Dark Lord you would be safe. You thought wrong. Time’s up. But, I’ll be sure to tell the Mudblood how red your cheeks flushed at the mention of her. _

_           Avada Kedavra!” _

_ Green light flashed, blindingly.  _

 

          “Hermione! Wake up!”

     She jerked awake, gasping for air and blinking wildly. Ginny was kneeled beside her looking distraught. 

          “What’s wrong?”

          “The Malfoys are back. I was just up by the main entrance doors and saw Snape come greet them. I thought perhaps we could use some of these,” She held up a set of Extendable Ears, “and see what they are up too.” 

     The hairs on the back of Hermione’s neck stood up and it was if a bucket of cold water went rushing down to her gut. The images of her dream filled her brain. What if it wasn’t a dream at all. 

     Standing up suddenly she dropped her wand from her sleeve to her hand. 

          “Lets go!” 

     Forgetting even to put away her books, the girls headed towards the Headmaster’s office at a clipped pace. Out of the library, and winding down the main staircase they raced until they rounded the corner nearing the main entrance outside the Great Hall. She skidded to halt, and motioned for Ginny to follow when voices drifted around the corner. They needed more of a plan. Hermione looked around them, and spotted an empty classroom. Grabbing Ginny’s arm she yanked her inside. 

          “We have to be careful, I have a feeling the Malfoys are up to something Just in case,” 

      Hermione tapped Ginny’s head with her wand, muttering a Disillusionment charm. The redhead shivered as the charm traveled down her body. Turning her wand to herself, Hermione repeated the charm. The sensation of raw egg begin cracked trickled down her head. Ginny had disappeared almost completely. Only a slight shimmer as she moved was visible. An Extendable Ear hovered in seemingly thin air before Hermione grabbed it. They moved towards the door, bumping into each other as they both tried to exit at the same time. Finally outside they crept towards the Gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster’s office door. 

          “Do you remember the password?” Ginny whispered. 

     Hermione’s face fell, not that anyone could see it. She wished on her favorite book that he had not changed the password. 

          “Gobstones”

     The Gargoyle remained still. Hermione stifled a groan. 

          “Exploding Snap.”

          “Wizard’s Chess.”

     This time Hermione did let out a moan of frustration when the Gargoyle remained stone still. 

          “Uhhh, Potions. Bat of the dungeons. Greasy git.” Ginny tried. 

          “Really?” Hermione hissed. 

          “What? It’s worth a try.”

     The Gargoyle suddenly leapt aside, making both girls jump as well. As the staircase began unwinding, Hermione pulled Ginny over into a corner further hiding from view just in case. 

     Footsteps and voices echoed down the stairs, and Hermione listened hard.

          “I’m still so sorry we couldn’t be more of service to you Severus. I am just as anxious as you I’m sure to see some peace finally” 

     Lucius Malfoy stepped into view, followed closely by Draco and Snape. Hermione’s heart began racing with fear. The men paused on the landing, and she felt herself hold her breath at their proximity. 

          “It’s no matter. I do appreciate your time, Lucius, Draco.” The Headmaster reached out and shook hands with each man. 

          “Although if you do remember anything that could help, never hesitate to contact me.”

          “Of course, of course. We are staying at the Three Broomsticks tonight, won’t you join us for a drink Severus?” 

          “I have to get to the feast.”

     Lucius frowned slightly. 

          “Maybe next time then. Come Draco.”

     The Malfoys turned, cloaks swishing aristocratically as they walked out the entrance. Ginny moved slightly, but Hermione reached out feeling for her arm. The Headmaster’s head snapped around looking around right where they were hiding. 

          “Severus, come quick! Severus!” 

     Professor Vector was running out of the Great Hall, her magenta robe flowing wildly behind her. Snape turned immediately, as the distraught witch reached him. Grabbing hold of his sleeve, she was breathing heavy. 

           “Severus, food everywhere! I have no idea what happened, the idiots were trying to duel!”

          “What?”

           “Come quick!”

      Snape took off in a rush, Professor Vector trailing behind him. When the sound of their footsteps finally died, Hermione released the disillusionment charms and turned to look at Ginny. 

           “We have to go tonight. To the Three Broomsticks.”

     The young witch’s jaw dropped. 

          “What? Why?”

          “To find out what the Malfoys are planning. Something's not right with them, I just know it.” 

          “I agree, obviously the Malfoys are not the first to be trusted, but we can’t just go to Hogsmeade-”

     Hermione grabbed Ginny’s shoulders with an excited thought, 

          “Don’t you have Harry’s cloak, and the Marauder’s Map?”

     Ginny stilled,

           “Yes.” She said slowly. 

          “Let’s go, we can sneak out through one of the tunnels that lead-”

          “Hermione, no. It’s too dangerous.” Ginny commanded. 

     Hermione could only stare at the girl in disbelief. Time was ticking, she could almost hear it in the back of her skull. They had to do something, to stop the Malfoys. Maybe her dream wasn’t near enough proof they were plotting something, but she could get solid evidence.

     A group of giggling third year Hufflepuffs began to pass by, and Ginny pulled on Hermione’s sleeve. 

          “Come on, we should get to the feast.” 

     The blood was rushing to her head, all she could think about what the vision of Lucius sneering at Snape, the killing curse flashing and blinding. No. She had to do something. 

     She faked a large dramatic sigh, 

          “Fine, but I forgot to grab my bag out of the library. Save me a seat?”

     The crowd heading towards the feast was getting thicker, and Ginny looked towards the Great Hall entrance, then back at Hermione as if she was debating. She nodded, finally. 

          “Alright, but be quick. It’s starting soon.”

     Without a second's hesitation, Hermione took off towards the main stairway steps, her heart pounding. She kept her face calm, despite the twinge in her stomach for her lie, and watched from the corner of her eye until Ginny disappeared into the Great Hall. She knew she had very little time, and began sprinting two stairs at a time towards the Gryffindor common room. 

      Most of the students were already in the hall, so she came across very few students. Reaching the common room, she sent a thanks to Merlin that it was empty. Not backing out now, she entered the seventh year girls room and headed straight for Ginny’s trunk. From helping her pack at the Burrow she knew exactly where the cloak and map were held, in a charmed compartment inside. Guilt trickled through her, as she remembered when she taught Ginny the charm, it was similar to the ones she created for her magical bag. Hermione raised her wand, murmuring. With a soft wave of light, the compartment appeared. Grabbing the contents, she quickly drapped the cloak over herself and turned. With a final deep breath, she headed back down and into the common room. 

     Reaching the Fat Lady’s portrait, she jumped back as it began to swing open. She watched, invisible as several first years wandered in. Not wasting time, she slipped out as the portiate began to close, heading directly to the 3rd floor and the hall with the statue of Gunhilda. Careful not to trip on the cloak, she slowed down on the staircases, keeping good watch on her feet. 

     Footsteps cause her to look up, and she almost gasped as Ginny came storming past her with a look of panic on her face. Hermione knew exactly where she was heading. She stood frozen for several second, watching the girl go by with guilt. With a concealed nod to herself she turned back to her mission. 

     Picking up her own pace, she made it to the third floor. Her footsteps echoed in the deserted hallways as she approached the humpbacked witch. Taking her wand out carefully, she tapped the back of the statue and whispered, 

           "Dissendium"

     The humpback of the witch magically opened and Hermione quickly crawled into the dark space. With one final deep breath, she slid down and landed into a familiar passageway. Taking off in a run, she lit her wand to guide the way to Hogsmeade. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kind words and kudos!! They are the lifeblood of my writing muse! Till next time...


	11. Chapter Eleven: A Plot Revealed

**Chapter Eleven: A Plot Revealed**

     Hermione replaced door into Honeydukes cellar carefully and as quietly as possible, making sure the cloak stayed on. Sneaking up the staircase, she was grateful it was around supper time so the shop was relatively empty. Tiptoeing as fast as she could, she made her way to the door. Fate seemed to be on her side, since a customer was just leaving, allowing her to slip out of the door unnoticed.The street was rather dark and empty. She pressed on in her mission. 

     Approaching the Three Broomsticks, Hermione paused at the door waiting for it to open so she could slip in. Her chance came soon, as three stout little witches came swaying out the door giggling merrily. Shifting around them, she skirted in the door without trouble. The pub was packed, full of rowdy customers celebrating Halloween. She keep close to the walls, and began to pace the perimeter of the room, searching for the familiar blond white hair. 

          “Why thank you Madam Rosmerta,” The cold aristocratic voice rang through the pub, and Hermione swiveled her head to lock her eyes on her targets. 

     Lucius and Draco were beginning to ascend the staircase to the rooms, talking to a rather flustered looking Rosmerta. Hermione quickly made her way closer. 

          “I hope you enjoy your stay Mr. Malfoy and, errrr,  Mr. Malfoy.” Rosmerta replied almost through gritted teeth.

     From her expression she did not mean the words at all, she looked more displeased than Hermione had ever seen that they were taking stay in her pub. 

          “What a warm welcome,” Lucius’s voice was barely audible, but the flash in his eyes was unmissable. “It will be something that does not go unnoticed. Goodnight then.” 

     The men turned and began ascending the staircase, leaving the pub owner looking rather red in the face at the implied threat.

          “Death Eater scum.” Rosmerta muttered under her breath as she returned to the bar. 

     Hermione rushed up the stairs, careful of the cloak, following the men closely. They continued down the hall until the very last room on the right. Lucius opened the door, ushering Draco inside. Right on his heels, she crouched under Lucius’s outstreched arm and ducked inside the room. The older man looked around the hallway carefully, before shutting the door behind him. As quiet as she could, Hermione shrunk back into a corner of the room. 

          “Meddling, ungrateful bitch.” Draco snapped as soon as the door shut, and began shrugging off his coat.  

     Lucius laughed, hard and cold, “The blood-traitors will get what’s due, soon enough. Just focus on the plan.” 

          “I just am sick of walking around looking like this dainty arsehole. Shouldn’t it be wearing off soon?”

          “Any time now. Actually, looks like your hair’s getting darker now.”

     Hermione cupped her hand over her mouth to not scream out as the two men began rapidly changing before her, shuddering and convulsing. Each shrank a few inches, and thinned out. Dark shaggy hair replaced the fine blond, till before her stood Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange. 

     Rodolphus stretched his arms overhead, a satisfied look on his face. 

          “Much better.” He tossed a small item on the table from his coat. “Now we wait.” 

          “How long do we have? I feel like all we’ve ever done is wait. I’m tired of waiting brother.” Rabastan growled, sitting down forcefully into a chair, swinging his feet to rest on the table. 

          “Not-”

     A tapping noise on the window interrupted Rodolphus’ reply. Striding over, he opened the window as little as possible to retrieve a letter. Hermione heard the owl hoot faintly, as the window snapped closed. Rodolphus’ eyes flew across the page of the letter, and a cruel smile formed on his face. 

          “What is it?” Rabastan sounded anxious. 

          “Tonight, brother. Bella sends word it will happen tonight.”

     Rabastan, sat up excitedly, his feet falling to the floor with a thud. 

          “Listen,” Rodolphus stepped over to his brother beginning to read. “It will happen tonight. Plan is set to execute both the Mudblood and Traitor. Portkey will depart at a thirteen after seven. Once at Azkaban, find our supporters. Leave no trace. Meet at the safe house when it is done.”

          “Thirteen after seven, that is less than minutes away!” 

           “Best get ready then.” Rodolphus folded the letter, stuffing it into his pocket, before walking over to the table. 

     He reached over and stood the object he had laid down before upright. Hermione realized it was a Knight piece from a wizard’s chess set. Rabastan stood as well.

          “If only we could kill the Mudblood ourselves. She would be a rather lovely plaything.” He sneered. 

          “Bella has unfinished business with her. Besides you know we have little time.” Rodolphus barked at his brother, frowning. 

          “Still, it’s no fun they get off so easy. I would rather like to make the Traitor bleed. Then force him to watch the fun of breaking the Golden Trio’s Princess.”

          “Shut up- It’s time.”

     The brothers reached over laying a single finger on the chess piece. With a woosh, they instantly disappeared from the room. 

     In the corner Hermione released the sob she had been holding in her chest, and fell to her knees. She had realized early in their conversation that they were talking about her. Tonight, what would happen tonight. And who was the Traitor? She lowered herself to the floor, bringing her knees to her and struggled to breath. Her vision was darkening in her panic. 

BAM! 

     The door flew open with a flash of light. Hermione instantly became alert, checking that the cloak was still covering her and monitoring her breathing. The Headmaster came rushing in, cloak billowing behind him and wand ready. He scanned the room, eyes narrow and dangerous. As slow as she could, Hermione reached into her pocket and began to withdraw her wand under the cloak. 

     Lowering his wand slightly, he spoke finally.

          “Granger, reveal yourself.”

      Hermione hesitated. What if it wasn’t him? Her hands were shaking, she gripped her wand tighter. Snape began slowly walking around the room, coming closer to her hiding spot. 

          “Granger!” He hissed in frustration. 

     She remained silent. Snape stepped closer. As cautiously as possible she moved to a crouching position ready to spring. The Headmaster paused, standing dead still. Hermione held her breath. 

     Suddenly, Snape whipped his wand in a complicated pattern and she felt the cloak rip off her. Knowing her only chance for the upper hand was now, Hermione sprang to her feet and flew across the room. With her wand directly against his neck she demanded.  

          “The night of the war, where was our last meeting?” 

     Snape’s eyes widened in surprise for a few seconds then he recovered glaring at her. 

          “Miss. Granger, remove your wand.”

     His tone was icy and threatening. Still she held her wand steady. They glared at each other a few moments more before he spat through gritted teeth,

          “The floor of the Shrieking Shack, now put away your wand!” 

     She hesitated. Maybe that was common knowledge. Thinking quickly she swallowed hard and quaked, 

          “And what happened that night?”

     Snape looked more murderous than ever. 

          “Voldemort wanted me dead. You intervene. Now. Remove. Your. Wand.” He emphasized each syllable. Realizing it truly must be the Headmaster, relief washed through her and words began tumbling from her. 

          “Headmaster, thank Merlin! It was the Lestranges! They are plotting with Bellatrix. She really is alive! And they are coming after me, and someone they called the Traitor, tonight she is planning on killing them, me, tonight!” Reaching out she grabbed his wrist and started pulling him towards the door. “We have to get-” 

          “Stupid girl, what the hell are you rambling about!” Snape snarled, yanking his wrist out her her grasp. 

     Hermione paused, startled, and blinked at the Headmaster. His lips were pulled back in a large sneer and he was looking at her as if she was some kind of wild animal. Realizing she was not making sense, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes trying to collect her thoughts. She had to get this right, he had to know for the safety of Hogwarts. 

          “I’m sorry sir, let me explain-”

          “Yes, please explain why Ginevra Weasley had to intercept me on the way to the Halloween feast to inform me that you had snuck into her quarters, stole her property-”

          “I didn’t steal,” She urged. 

          “And snuck off grounds when you have strictly been forbidden to leave the castle, to chase after guests who were there-”

          “They are not who you thought they were!” She stamped her foot. 

     Snape was roaring now despite her interruptions, “Who were there with special invitation to provide information to help the Ministry-”

     Raising her wand once again she cried, 

          “Headmaster, listen to me, Hogwarts is in danger!” 

     Surprisingly he stopped and an eyebrow raising high on his head. She didn’t hesitate. 

          “That was not the Malfoy’s who visited Hogwarts today but Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange. I overheard their entire conversation. They are planning an attack within Hogwarts and Azkaban tonight, by Bellatrix’s orders.” 

          “That is not possible-” He grumbled, but she interrupted once again. 

          “Look into my mind. If you don’t believe my words, see the truth then. You know I could not fabricate this.”

     Snape’s obsidian eyes studied her. He raised his wand. 

          “Legilimens” 

     Hermione felt the increasingly familiar shadow within her mind but this time did not fight it. She focused hard on the chain of events including her dream within the library. They both stood stone still, neither speaking, hardly breathing, both fixed in a locked eye contact. Hermione watched Snape’s face closely. Once he saw the men change, his face paled. Finally, he broke contact, the impact forcing her to stumble backwards. Trying to settled herself, she looked up once more breathing heavy. 

          “Can you Apparate?” he asked quietly, his face still and serious. 

     Assessing herself, she wasn’t sure. She held up a hand, it was still shaking. 

          “I don’t think so, sir.” She answered meekly, suddenly ashamed of her weakness. 

          Snape simply nodded slightly, and took a step forward. Reaching down he snatched her forearm, gripping it against his, and her stomach fluttered oddly with the contact. The familiar pressure of apparition pressed against her skull, and Snape's grip turned almost painful. With a thud, she was back on her feet. They were right outside the gates of Hogwarts. Still gripping her wrist, Snape began pulling her towards the castle at an alarmingly fast pace. Focusing on her feet and trying not to fall, she ran following. 

          They stopped only when inside the Headmaster’s office, the door shut with a snap behind them. Snape released her wrist, cloak swirling around him as he stalked to the fireplace. Throwing a scoop of floo power in the hearth, he bent down sticking his head and shoulders into the flames. Hermione moved closer to hear, but it was rather muffled. 

          “I need to speak to him immediately...Where is he...He needs to contact me within an hour, no he needs to come to Hogwarts within the hour!”

     She jumped back as he reared back, looking livid. Snape spun his wand conjuring his patronus. The bright shimmering doe appeared,

          “New information, come immediately.” He dictated, his tone grim. 

     Hermione watched as the doe sprung to life, galloping around them then jumping through the large window in the corner. She stared transfixed. 

          “Go to bed Granger. I’ll send information once it's been handled.”

     Immediately, she began to protest, “Headmaster-”

     He turned staring her down with a deadly look. Hermione shut her mouth, realizing she couldn’t win this argument. She forced herself to nod. Snape turned, stalking towards the door in the corner. With a loud thud, he was gone. 

     With her head reeling, she finally started making her way out of the office and towards her room. Passing the Great Hall, she realized the feast was still going. The thought of all those students, eating, laughing, enjoying the feast without any knowledge of the danger they could be in felt sickeningly familiar. And her uselessness made her stomach turned sharply. She picked up her pace to the dungeons, quickly hitting a full sprint. 

     Reaching her door, she flung it open and closed behind her locking it with magic, and headed straight for the bathroom. Leaning over the toilet, the content of her stomach exited violently. Her tremors raked her body violently as the fear and panic consumed her. Her head was a mess of vision from the war and this afternoon. She had been so close to the murderers who were plotting her death. For the first time she agreed with the Headmaster, she could not handle anything but sleep right now. Exhaustion overwhelmed her. 

     Pathetically she crawled on her hands and knees to her bed. Covering herself with her blanket fully dressed, she laid in the dark until sleep snuck upon her.


	12. Chapter Twelve: Escape

**Chapter Twelve: Escape**

     It was a tingle within her magic that awoke her. Hermione sat up, reaching for her wand. Something had triggered her wards. 

     Three loud raps rang out from the door to her quarters. 

     Immediately up and moving silently in the dark, she made her way cautiously to the door. The knocks sounded again. She paused waiting, listening. A third set of knocks. 

          “Who is it?” Hermione called. 

          “It’s me, Ginny. Come quick the Headmaster has sent for you.” 

     Ginny’s tone sounded strange through the door, but Hermione didn’t miss the urgency in her voice. It must mean he reached the Minister. With a flick of her wand she lowered her wards, and opened the door. The redhead had one hand on her hip, looking at her impatiently. 

          “Did he say anything, is the Minister here?” Hermione rushed. 

     Looking around briefly, Ginny shrugged and said. 

          “He just said to come get you immediately and come to his office. Let’s go, we are wasting time!”

     Hermione frowned at her aggressive tone, but realized the Headmaster must have been insistent that she get there. Nodding, Hermione took off at a run towards the main hall, Ginny following behind at a slower pace. They reached the Gargoyle, she skidded to a halt. 

          “I don’t know the password!” She looked back to Ginny, who had just arrived. 

     The redhead just smirked, raising her wand. She mumbled something in a low tone, and the Gargoyle sprang away, the steps appearing. A strange tickle ran down Hermione’s spine. 

          “What was the password?” She asked, but Ginny had already began to climb the steps. The younger girl reached down and grabbed her arm, pulling her up towards the office. 

     Reaching the door, Ginny swung it open forcefully, so it smashed into the wall with a loud noise. The room appeared empty, but Hermione anxiously entered searching for the Headmaster or Minister. Surely there was important news to send for her so late. 

     Ginny released her arm and went to close the door, when Snape came barreling out the door to his private chambers. He looked like he had not slept yet, still in the same long teaching robes, and the familiar look of annoyance across his features. 

          “Miss. Granger, Miss. Weasley! What is the meaning-”

          “I’ve brought the girl like you asked, Snape.” Ginny smirked, placing her hands on her hips.  

     Hermione rushed across the room to right in front of the man, panicked.

          “Headmaster, what’s happened? What’s the news? Has she been found?”

     Snape held up a hand in her face, silencing her. His gaze was held firm in a confused look behind her, eyes narrowing. She turned. Ginny was glaring at them with a sinister smile on her face. The expression was alien on her normal relaxed, pretty face. Hermione felt herself take a step back, closer to the Headmaster. 

          “Ginny?” Her voice came out in a squeek. 

     The redhead raised her wand and flicked it at the door, which swung closed, locking. Hermione took another step back, and felt the Headmasters fingers begin to grasp the back of her arm slowly, hidden by the fabric of their robes. Ginny was pacing like a caged animal watching them. 

          “Yes, Her-mi-o-ne?” Her name sounded like a taunt. 

     Ginny’s head fell back and a loud, mad cackle emerged from the girls throat. The hairs on the back of Hermione’s neck, and fear sliced through her. It couldn’t be. Not here at Hogwarts. Letting her wand slowly slid into her hand from her sleeve, she kept her eyes focused on the redhead who was now pacing. The Ginny look alike stopped for a moment, smiling, her eyes flicking to Hermione’s wand, then back to them. 

          “Dear Headmaster, don’t you have some news for us? Hermione come here, let's listen to the news.” Ginny reached her hand out. 

     Hermione didn’t move. Snape’s hand was now firmly grasping the back of her arm. It gave her an odd sense of strength, as if he was telling her to wait. The witch in front of them cackled again. 

          “No, not feeling like talking Snape. Fine, I’ll share the happy news then!” The Ginny look alike took a step forward, grinning madly. “Murder at Hogwarts! Brave Headmaster and War Hero- slain! Gryffindor’ prized Golden Girl- dead! Oh what tragedy, gone so young.” She pretended to wipe tears away.  “But there is always another side isn’t there.” The Ginny look alike snarled. 

     Hermione noticed the witch's hair was starting to darken. The skin around her face began to bubble, and rapidly change. Her cheeks began to sink in, Still, the look alike crept forward, her face turning wilder and wilder. 

          “The real story, the truth. A filthy little Mudblood bitch will get what she deserves. And of course, the Traitor.” Sunken eye flicker to the Headmaster, “The Traitor shall meet his revenge most…” Her face turned hard, “Foul.” 

     The strong grip on Hermione’s arm pulled her forcefully out of the way at the same moment the witch screamed, 

          “Crucio!”

     Hermione stumbled before standing back up, wand ready. Sparks were flying around the room as Snape and the quickly emerging form of Bellatrix Lestrange dueled. The sight froze her to the spot. Snape was casting spell after spell, wordlessly. His tall frame stood firm, his face not giving a hint of weakness, as the black haired madwoman returned his spells, screaming. It sent a prickle down her spine to see her now, the Polyjuice potion completely worn off. 

     A hex buzzing only an inch from her ear convincing her to finally move. She raised her wand and began firing stunning spells. 

           “Stupefy!” 

           “Oh! Come to play with us little Mudblood!” Bellatrix cackled, as she ducked away from a spell behind the squishy armchair. 

     Spells were rebounding off every surface, and Hermione was dodging this way and that. She glanced over at Snape. Bellatrix began cackling even harder, but the Headmaster was standing his ground, flawlessly blocking every spell. The distraction pulled her attention away from dodging spells and Hermione cried out as a sharp pain sliced on her forearm. 

     Falling to her knees, blind with tears, she began crawling behind the Headmaster’s desk. Sparks, and shrapnel from objects around the room were flying. Hermione pulled up her sleeve, and gasped. Lestrange had somehow reopened the word carved into the flesh. Fresh blood poured from her forearm. A spell hit the desk by her shoulder, splintering the wood. Crying out again, she crawled to the other side, closer to the Headmaster. 

     His face was hard in concentration, but she could see a trickle of sweat bead down his forehead. Jumping up she resumed shooting spells as fast as she could towards the madwoman. Bellatrix screamed in frustration, but continued her attack. 

     Bangs echoed around the room, and the door flew open. 

          “Severus, go!” McGonagall brogue cut through the commotion. 

     Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Vector flooded in the room, all bombarding Lestrange with hexes. 

     Hermione barely had time to watch, when her vision became masked by thick black smoke surrounding her. The Headmaster was suddenly right in front of her, grabbing her waist. With impulse she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face within his black robes. Her feet left the floor, and they began spinning weightlessly. 

     The air suddenly was frigid, wind whipping around them. Hermione knew they must be flying broomlessly, magic he had learned no doubt from Voldemort himself. She squeezed her eyes shut not daring to look. Snape’s arms were tight around her, the force from flying pressing almost every inch their bodies close. His chest was solid, and warm. Hermione thought briefly, she had only ever been so physically close to one other man, Ron. Of course she had hugged Harry a million times, but never this close. Her cheeks burned and she quickly shoved the thought away. 

     The cold wind had numbed her ears, but she could feel them start to descend. Peeking an eye open, she looked around. They were feet above the ground, slowly lowering into a clearing deep within the Forbidden Forest. The trees around them were dark and daunting, and creaked softly with the wind. As their feet touched the ground, Hermione released her arms from around Snape’s neck, and took a step back. He immediately released her, and if he was affected by their proximity he didn’t show it. 

     Hermione shivered in the cold, and exhaled slowly, her breath swirling around her. 

          “What are we going to do?” She whispered. 

     Snape looked towards the sky, his brow furrowed. She waited, understanding he was in thought. A strange whooshing sound through the forest, and both Snape and Hermione spun around wand ready. She held her breath, listening. 

     Erie silence surrounded the clearing. She blinked willing her eyes to adjust faster to the darkness. Shadows seemed to dance around the edges of the clearing. Her hands were shaking, but she kept her wand as steady as she could. Beside her, the Headmaster whispered an unfamiliar spell, the tip of his wand glowing a dull purple. 

CRASH!

     Hermione bit her cheek to suppress a scream as thick black smoke began emerging from the trees to their left, and a chunk of wood flew into the clearing. They backed away from it as it grew unnaturally quiet once again. 

          “Oh Severus! Come out, come out and play!”

     Bellatrix’s voice whispered like wind, this time to their right. Hermione and Snape spun towards the sound. Hermione could hear her own heartbeat. She counted her breath. In for four. Hold for four. Out for for. 

BAM! 

     Red light shot towards her, and she ducked running left just in time. It ricocheted off a large oak tree, cracking it loudly. More spells came, this time from all directions, and Snape once again wordlessly deflected and returning spells. Hermione spun trying to keep moving, returning fire in all directions, but it was like aiming for ghosts. She couldn’t see anything but shadows dancing through the lights of spells. Taking heavy fire, in such an open space she knew they might not have long. 

          “Headmaster!” She called through gritted teeth, slamming up a blocking spell just in time. 

          “Granger, come here!” She heard him yelled over the sound of the trees shattering with missed spells. 

     Dodging and ducking she made her way closer to him. When she was an arms length away, Snape grabbed her wrist pulling her against his side. He waved his wand high above his head, this time murmuring a string of incantations. A soft bubble of blue light bounced from his wand, enrapturing them in a shield. Hermione watched, catching her breath, as spells hit the transparent glowing walls and disappeared. 

          “This won’t hold long.” Snape whispered to her.  

     He seemed out of breath as well. Swirling his wand a second time, Hermione recognized the spell. Bright light erupted from his wand, and the silver doe emerged once again. 

          “Hogwarts has been compromised. Gone to safehouse.” Snape relayed the message to the Patronus. The doe bounded through the bubble as easy as air, running through trees and disappeared into the darkness. 

     Snape grabbed her around her waist for a second time, muttering, 

          “Hold on,” 

     As if it was a familiar gesture, her hands wrapped around his neck once again with a firm grip already feeling the pressure of apparition. The shield bubble suddenly burst like a shockwave, illuminating the entire clearing. Her vision went dark. 

Hidden in the tree’s, Antonin Dolohov and Bellatrix Lestrange were flung back by the burst. At the same moment a loud crack reverberating off the trees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your support!!! I'm having so much fun with this fic, and we are just getting started! *rubs hands together excitedly* Stubborn Snape and Headstrong Hermione stuck together in a safe house.... all aboard the angst train... *laughs maniacally*  
>  :) :) :)


	13. Chapter Thirteen: The Safehouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! Possible trigger towards the end of this chapter!

**Chapter Thirteen: The Safehouse**

     With a loud crack, Hermione felt all her weight shift as they landed abruptly. She would have fallen straight on the face, but the frame of the very tall and ridgid Headmaster prevented her. Suddenly and overwhelming aware of their closeness, she peaked up at him. 

    Snape was already staring down at her with a completely unfamiliar expression. The normal firm lines around his eyes and between his eyebrows from scowling, were loosened. His eyes were wide, and his lips open slightly. She could have sworn his cheeks had more color than usual. Hermione’s stomach fluttered.

     Behind them a muggle car horn sounded. The noise must have had the equivalent effects of a bucket of cold water being thrown over the Headmaster’s head. He snarled, and ripped Hermione’s arms off of him, pushing her back. 

          “Get off Granger. Start casting every protection spell you know.”

     Snape lifted his wand, and began firing his own protections. Stunned momentarily, she wondered what had just passed between them. Shaking her head slightly, she refocused and studied her surroundings, scolding herself for not realizing they were still in danger. 

     They were on a dingy street lined with shabby row houses. Most of their windows were shattered, or boarded up with plywood. The house they were now standing in front of looked particularly depalitated. It’s bricks were dingy and crumbling. The top windows were boarded with rotting wood, and shattered glass from the bottom windows littered the street. She looked over once again at the Headmaster, who was still muttering, wand pointed to the house in front of them. The air was glowing slightly with the spells. 

     From her months on the run with the boys, she had learned and created many protection spells. Ones she really didn’t expect to use after the war. Taking a deep breath she raised her wand and got to work. The air became thick with their magic, glowing even brighter. Hermione finished with a charm of her own that would make her wand spark in warning if intruders were near. 

     Looking over at the Headmaster, she wondered where they were. He finally lowered his wand, and without hardly a glance at her, grabbed her wrist and stormed up the disintegrating step, dragging her behind. She stumbled over her feet trying not to fall. With a flick of his wand, the door creaked open wide and she was pulled inside. Hermione looked one more time behind her at the deserted street before the door swung shut behind her with a loud thud, and the hallway was encompassed in total darkness.

     The long fingers around her wrist loosened and she heard nothing but the rustle of the fabric of his robes. Lights within the house illuminated the hall around them in a dull glow. They were in a rather dark and narrow hallway. Although the outside was considerable shabbier, the inside felt equally dark and dreary. The hall opened up into a sitting room on the left and from what she could see a kitchen further down the hall. Snape raised his wand and continued casting protection spells around the rooms, headed into the kitchen area. He disappeared from her view. Peeking around to the sitting room, she caught her breath when she spotted the books. 

     Books of every size, shape, and genre filled the shelves that lined every wall from top to bottom. More books rested in stacks around the room next to a rather ugly patterned loveseat. An especially large stack was next to a cushoney looking armchair. The chair appeared to be the only comfortable looking surface in the rather depressing looking room. Although, her fingers twitched at her want to run them along the spines and explore the titles. 

     The movement caused white hot pain to radiate up her arm, and she looked down. The fabric of her sleeve had turned dark where blood was soaking through, and she realized trickles of blood were dripping down her fingertips onto the floor. She had completely forgotten in the chaos of their escape that she was hurt. The sight of the blood and memories of the cursed knife that had carved the reopened scar made her woozy, she felt herself sway slightly.  

          “Granger!” Snape’s voice carried through the halls, and she snapped her head up. 

          The Headmaster came barreling in the room, staring at his hand he had outstretched before him. It was covered in semi-dry blood. The dizziness returned. Snape had crossed the room and was once again beside her.

           “Pull up your sleeve, let me see.” 

     She struggled to focus on his face, but it was swimming in front of her. A strong grip clasped her shoulders and she let it lead her over to the loveseat, sitting down. Hermione closed her eyes trying to suck in breath. 

            “Open your eyes Granger, it’s just a bit of blood.” The Headmaster snapped. 

     Obediently she jerked open her eyes. Snape was kneeling beside her, pulling at her sleeve. It was sticking to the deep cuts due to the blood, and she yelped in pain. 

     Snape ignored her, his head bent down, sharply focused on her injury. He tried to pull the sleeve back several more inches, and tears formed in her eyes. 

           “Ow!” She whimpered. 

     Thankfully he stopped pulling, and brought his wand to her arm. Roguthly, gripped her forearm bracing it against his own. With a flick of his wand he cut her sleeve at the elbow, and a split it in half. Another flick, and the fabric ripped off her wound like a bandaid. Hermione screamed, nearly toppling off the couch in pain. 

     Without a word, he held her arm steady as he magically cleaned the ripped fabric of her sleeve, and transfigured it into a towel. His wand slid back into his sleeve and he began cleaning the mixture of dried and wet blood from her arm. Tears poured out of her eyes and she bit the inside of her cheek as the word carved into her skin started to become visible underneath the blood. It had been her secret, her everyday reminder of the literal scars of war. No one besides Ron and Harry had known it was there. A sickening feeling of shame made her nearly lose her stomach contents as the angry red cuts spelled  _ Mudblood.  _

     She noticed Snape’s eyebrow raise only slightly, but he gave no other indication of surprise as he pulled his wand from his sleeve once more. Hermione gritted her teeth but watched him work as he muttered healing spells and the pain began dissipating. Her shoulder blades dropped slightly, and she released her clenched jaw. Snape spoke, lowly.

          “This is not a new wound.” 

     She wasn’t sure if he was asking or just stating a fact. 

          “On the run we were captured by Snatchers and Greyback. They brought us to Malfoy Manor. She, Bellatrix, interrogated me about Gryffindor's sword. It must have been a cursed knife, because I’ve tried everything. And tonight, she. She.” Hermione trailed off, surprised by her own honesty. 

     Snape nodded, “I know the blade. It’s crafted from old dark magic. Any wounds can be reopened if the victim and assailant are in close proximity.”

     It didn’t surprise her. She had guessed that this summer when she had tried nearly everything possible to remove the scar. Even now, although the wounds were closing it was changing into the familiar dark disfigurement she was so careful to hide. Snape lifted his wand away from her skin. 

           “The scar,” He began, but she cut him off. 

          “Won’t go away. I know, I’ve tried everything.” 

      Snape released her arm, and she pulled it to her chest inspecting. It looked the same, as it was just an old scar once again. Gingerly she traced the M along her skin, then scrubbed both hands across her face wiping tears. 

          “Thank you.” Hermione glanced back up at the Headmaster. 

     He only nodded. Standing, Snape waved a hand over to the fireplace. A fire sprung to life, warming the dark room. 

          “Headmaster, if I may ask, where are we?”

     A dark look crossed his face and he stared into the fire. She waited patiently as he pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. 

         “A safehouse.”

          “Yes, I realized that, sir. But a safehouse where?”

     He spun his head around, narrowing his eyes at her. She stared back. 

           “It wouldn't be a successful safe house if you were to know that, would it Miss. Granger?” He sneered. 

     Hermione frowned at his icy tone. 

          “But I am already in the safehouse, what does it matter if I know the location? Or what if I have to leave, I need to know to apparate-”

          “You will not know, so nor will your precious Potter and Weasley so we will actually remain safe.”

           “I wouldn’t tell-”

           “Enough!” 

     Hermione scowled. He was acting rather suspicious, and right now she couldn’t afford to trust anyone, seeing as one of her best friends was just impersonated. Trying to minimize her movements she watched him carefully as she began pulling her wand from her sleeve. He had resumed his staring towards the fire, holding his fingers along the bridge of his nose. The base of her wand reached her palm. 

           “What are you going to do, hex me?” The Headmaster snorted. 

     Once again she scowled. How did he even know she had her wand. Trying to sound as fierce as she possibly could, she demanded. 

           “Prove to me you are who you appear to be.” 

     Snape looked at her between his fingers, which were now dragging across his face in frustration. Hermione held her chin up high and strong. 

           “Really? And how would I go about doing that?” 

     She stood, 

           “What is something that only you would know?”

     He started at her till she almost couldn’t stand the tension. Her hands were shaking, still she clutched her wand tightly. 

Finally he sighed. 

          “May the second, I should have died on the floor of the Shrieking Shack. But I did not. The only person in the world who knows the truth of how I survived is you. Are you satisfied Miss. Granger?”

     Hermione inhaled. Then nodded, sitting down. 

          “Good, now get up. I’ll show you to your room.” 

     Snape pinched the bridge of his nose one more time before releasing his hand and stomping out of the room. She followed, curious to see more of the safehouse. 

     The house seemed to only get gloomier. Hardly any light filtered out of the dingy wall sconces. It reminded her of Grinwald Place, only a bit cleaner. At least the walls were bear from any screaming portraits. She followed the Headmaster into the kitchen, and up a small staircase. It led to a landing where yet another narrow hallway led the way to several doors. Her heart raced as something familiar tickled the back of her neck. Snape stopped abruptly in front of the first door. 

          “This is the guest room. Bathrooms across the hall. Do not go into the last door on the left.”

     Digging his heel in, he took off at his usual sweeping pace, walking into the very door he forbid her from, slamming it shut behind him. Dust scattered around the hall from the impact. Hermione frowned at his door for a few more moments before turning towards her own. Opening the door slightly, she glanced inside. It was pitch black, she could hardly see but a foot inside from the light in the hall. She lit her wand and took a deep breath before entering the room. 

     With a flick of her wrist she turned on the lights, then blinked around the surprise. It was decorated plainly, with only two pieces of furniture and had a thick layer of dust. But overall it wasn’t miserable. A queen size four poster bed made of dark wood took up most of the tiny room. A dresser of the same wood was pushed up against the corner. She moved around the room, casting a scouring charm at the dust as she went. 

     Pausing at the dresser, a gleam caught her eye. Upon closer inspection, two picture frames were flying face down, almost invisible with the dust. 

          “Scourgify” She whispered, then reached propping up the pictures.

     The inhabitants, or well inhabitant since it appeared to be the same tall lanky boy in both frames, seemed rather annoyed at the sudden disturbance. In one frame the boy looked to be about sixteen scowled up at her beneath a curtain of dark hair, and crossed his arms. In the other the boy was younger, around seven or eight, inspected her curiously. Both were taken in the same place, on the front step of a rather shabby looking house. 

     Leaning in more, Hermione studied the portraits closely. A gasp tumbled from her open mouth when a bolt of recognition hit her. The faces of the young Headmaster blinked back at her. His long nose was still the same, along with his impossibly dark eyes. She stared at teenage Snape, who stared back at her, assessing her. He had filled out quite a bit as a man, still tall but not so thin. And his hair had grown longer. 

     The portrait Snape, tucked his hair behind his ears, then smiled at her shyly. A spike of attraction tingled within her, and Hermione jumped back blushing. The portrait Snape’s smile turned into a cocky smirk as she stumbled over her own feet. 

     Turning completely away from the portraits, she set her mind on cleaning the bed and transfiguring the moth eaten comforter into a soft flannel blanket. Collapsing her weary body onto the bed, she stared up at the ceiling in deep thought. 

     From the pictures she had already deduced this must be Snape’s childhood home. He must have turned it into a safe house. What was troubling her was why. Surely in his time as a Death Eater, the location had to be compromised at some point. But she didn’t feel as if he was a threat or wanted to hurt her. In fact, very much the opposite. 

     She tossed and turned on the bed, recapping the past few hours. She listened to the creaking of the house around her. Straining to listen, she wondered if the Headmaster was asleep. No noises came from that side of the house, so he must have been.

     Around two am, she finally fell asleep. 

 

_            Hermione sucked in sweet oxygen, finally able to breath after landing painfully on her back. Her eyes were squeezed shut tight, as she felt the cords of magic tighten around her wrist that were painfully stretched above her head. The bastard had tied her ankles too when she had finally landed her knee to his groin. Panic and pain overwhelmed her. She knew she wouldn’t be able to fight him off any more. She was powerless. She tried to clear her mind, escape into it where she didn’t have to feel any more. Above her she felt her blouse rip, followed by a sinister laugh.  _

_            “I guess I just don’t see why Severus bothers, there’s barely anything here.” _

_           Rough fingers squeezed her breasts and she forced her head to the side so he couldn’t see the tears that had escaped. Rabastan Lestrange continued pawing at her disgustingly, pulling down her bra. When he pinched her nipples painfully, she forced every last ounce of fight out of her and screamed.  _

 

     Hermione stirred, the sound of screaming was echoing somewhere far away. The sound was getting closer, till it hurt her ears. A jolt shuddered through her as she realized the screams were coming from her. Hermione tried to inhale, tried to open her eyes. Her windpipe felt like it was collapsing. Her eyelids wouldn’t budge. She clawed at the sheets in terror. 

          “Breathe Granger. Breathe” 

     A low voice wrapped around her mind like a smooth silk ribbon. The pressure in her airway loosened slightly.

          “That’s it, inhale now.” 

A full inhale passed through her lungs. She opened her eyes. Wearing only a muggle shirt and flannel pajama pants, the Headmaster was standing above her. Her heart leapt to her throat. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Sorry for the delay, but finally back on track with writing.   
> Speaking of which- if you like this fic I just uploaded a little Holiday time short story with our fav Gryffindor Princess and Slytherin King! It's called The Christmas Gift.   
> I hope you enjoy, thank you so much for your likes and comments, and Happy Holidays!!!


	14. Chapter Fourteen: First Night First Day

**Chapter Fourteen: First Night First Day**

     Hermione still struggled to breath, and attempted to raise herself into a seated position against the headboard. Snape still remained standing over her. She struggled to gain back her composure. 

          “Would you,” He cleared his throat and took a few step back, “Would you like some tea?”

     Panic was still racing in her veins, but she managed to nodded her head. Nodding once in return he swept from the room with his usual dark grace. 

     She blinked in the semi-darkness, as she realized his tone was rather, well, nice. Caring almost. Deducing that it was her screaming her head off in her sleep, Hermione would have expected Snape to come storming in yelling at her for the racket. But this was a surprise. She sucked in a deep breath as best as she could. 

     Standing up shakily, she made her way towards the door. Pausing at the dresser, she stole a glance at the portraits. Youngest Snape was standing on the top step of the house, and stared back at her with wide, frightened eyes. Teenage Snape was scowling from the bottom step, with his arms crossed. His hair was rather ruffled, like he had just tumbled out of bed. 

          “Sorry to wake you.” She mumbled, then felt instantly ridiculous for talking to pictures. Moving wizard pictures or not. 

     A soft rattle of china down the hall, and she started towards the hallway. Padding softly into the kitchen she sat at the small table. The Headmaster was pulling the boiling kettle off the stove. How curious it was for him to make tea the muggle way. Although it was still more curious to see him in muggle pyjamas. If they were in any other circumstances, she supposed she would have giggled. 

     With a small wave of his hand two steaming cups levitated to the table. Hermione wrapped her cold hands around the ceramic. 

          “Thank you.” 

     Snape sat down across from her, and his dark eyes returning to study her sharply. She could feel them on her, still as she lowered her own gaze to the swirling liquid in the cup. Hermione had always been good at comforting others, or at least trying her best to. Now that she was on the other side of things, she just felt weak and shameful. She sipped her tea. The heat warmed down to her stomach, comforting her slightly. It reminded her of the countless times she would have tea sitting in her small kitchen at home. She sighed softly, thinking of a home she would never have again. 

          “How often do the nightmares occur?” Snape finally broke the silence.

     She bit her lip as the dark thoughts swirled through her. She forced her gaze up. 

          “Nightly. Some are worse than others.” 

    He stroked his chin. Hermione studied the dark circles around his eyes momentarily. He looked as exhausted as she felt. 

“And they are all flashbacks from the war?”

    She started to nod, then frowned. Mentally shuffling through as many nightmares she could stand, her frown deepened. She sat up straighter in her chair. 

“Not always. Sometimes they are new.”

     Now the Headmaster frowned. 

          “What do you mean new?” 

     She thought back, carefully. These new nightmares were happening more frequently, she concluded, although she had not thought much of them until now. They seemed so real, so much the same as the dark realities from the war that she fought so hard to keep away. The most concerning was the most recent one, and how she came to know the Lestranges were at Hogsmeade. Articulating her thoughts, she attempted to express them with her mind whirling. 

          “I am not sure myself really. But I had a dream about the Lestranges using Polyjuice Potion. Within this dream, I saw them attempting to kill you, which.” She paused briefly as Snape took a sip of tea. “Which is why I followed them.” 

     Taking a sip herself, she kept running into one problem with these dreams. 

          “Professor, I am not quite sure if they are dreams at all. But,” Her voice trailed off. 

     Surely it couldn’t be. Divination was something she never put much stock in. And even though she would never admit that she disliked a Professor, Trelawney certainly got on her nerves. There always was a logical explanation to things. Perhaps this was more a case of Occlumency. Perhaps she was suddenly able to see into the Lestranges mind. But why would in each dream did it seem she was watching as herself?

     The Headmaster shifted in his seat, leaning back and crossing his arms. Hermione listened to the kitchen clock tick, her thought process continually rolling the information searching for something new. 

          “In these these dreams, visions, the scenarios come true just as you saw them?” 

     She flinched, startled by the deep voice after such a long period of silence. Trying to keep her face neutral she answered, 

          “Yes, very closely.”

          “And you’ve seen other things?”

     Snape’s dark eyes bore into hers. She forced herself to look up at the ceiling, worried he would try to see her thoughts. Remembering the blank page, she focused on her breath and sipped her tea. It was getting cold.

          “Yes.” Her voice was not as solid sounding as she had hoped. 

          “Have the scenarios happened?”

     Hermione bit her lip. 

          “No.” She responded finally. 

     The Headmaster made a humming noise, and she felt his obsidian gaze continuing to stare at her. Her teacup suddenly became very interesting. 

     They sat once again in silence, and Hermione realized she was starting to feel the always present fingers of exhaustion tickle the back of her brain. After she failed to   suppress her third yawn, the Headmaster’s chair scraped against the kitchen floor as he stood up. 

          “Go to sleep.” He ordered simply, but surprisingly without his usual bite. 

     Wearily, she stood up to head back to her bedroom. Following behind, Hermione couldn’t help but noticed the curve of Snape’s shoulders and back as they walked. He was always clothed in his typical sweeping teaching robes which masked any details of his frame. It was a rather odd but she liked the look of his back. Another blush fanned down to her toes, and she mentally cursed her thoughts.

     He paused just outside her door, and she nearly walked headfirst into the same back she had been admiring. Quickly she skirted to the door knob and yanked it open. Without turning around or even a nod of acknowledgement he continued down the hall to his own door and disappeared inside. Hermione was left for the second time staring down the hallway in confusion of her own feelings and reactions. 

      Turning inside, she closed the door and made her way into bed. Despite her exhaustion, she lay away for several more hours, mind full and racing. 

     

     The room was still just as dark as before when she woke, disorienting her sense of time. Hermione sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Thankfully, she had slept soundly after tea with the Headmaster, and only a few restless hours. Looking down, she realized she was still in the same clothes that she had gone to bed in the previous night. Although it felt like it had been years since she had been sleeping in her tiny rooms at Hogwarts. She rubbed her eyes again, and swung her legs off the bed.

     Remembering where the Headmaster pointed the bathroom across the hall, she figured a proper shower and a change of clothes would do her a load of good. From the tiny pocket sewn  inside the main pocket of her jeans, Hermione dug out her second most prized possession after her wand. The beaded bag was around as big as the tip of her thumb, but with a quick flick of her wand it grew to its normal size. She thought to herself how maybe once in a while her paranoia after the war was paying off as she dug inside the bag finding several changes of clothes. A large thunk rang out from the bag, signaling the books falling out of place once more. She sighed, vowing to organize those again later, and headed towards the door. 

     The hallway was rather dark and empty. Hermione stilled with one foot out the door listening for any sign of the Headmaster. The house was eerily quiet. Tip-toeing to the door across the hall she entered and closed the door behind her. The bathroom was small with the same minimal furnishing as the rest of the house. At least there was a sink with a small mirror, along with the toilet. Against the wall there was a most inviting antique clawfooted tub. Hermione‘ s lips curled in a small smile, and she skimmed her hand along the edge of the porcelain. With a flick of her wand she set the taps to the perfect temperature. 

     With a sigh, she began shrugging out of her clothes. Groaning slightly, she realized how tight and sore her body was from the escape. Moving to the mirror, she inspected herself briefly for any bruising. Luckily it was minimal with just a few bruises here and there. More than likely from narrowly missed hexes. She stepped towards the tub and eased herself in. 

     The steam billowed around her as Hermione dipped her head down into the water, soaking her curls. The tension slowly released from her shoulders. She stretched and rested her toes against the far end of the tub. She stared at the chipped blue nail color on her big toes. 

     Breathing in, an overwhelming sense of sadness consumed her. Hermione hated crying so much, but the tears came anyway. It felt like peace would never be a part of her life, no matter how hard she tried. Hermione had always been an imaginative child, wishing for adventures and a pursuit of knowledge. Now, she only wanted was mundane. To have a stable apprenticeship, learn in peace. Taking a deep breath, she submerged completely underwater and washing her tears away. She stayed underwater until her lungs burned. 

     Coming back to the surface, Hermione wondered what would happen now. She let herself wallow for a few more minutes until the water started to get cold. Washing quickly, she stood and wandlessly summoned towels from her beaded bag. Wrapping herself and her hair she went back to face her reflection in the mirror. Her reflection still looked like a stranger. Drying quickly, she grabbed her wand and magically wrung out the excess water from her hair. Leaving it still damp, and dressing in simple sweatpants and a t-shirt, wondered if Snape was even up yet. Her stomach growled. Perhaps she should eat something as well. 

 

     A while later, Hermione stopped in the entrance way of the kitchen as a wonderful smell overtook her senses. Sniffing it in, her stomach grumbled once more protesting her lack of fuel. Walking fully into the room, she mentally catalogued the sight as something she would never have imagined in her lifetime. Snape was standing at the stove, a spatula in hand, cooking what looked like a rather mouthwatering full English breakfast. At least he was dressed once again in his typical all black teaching attire. But Hermione felt herself frozen to only blink in surprise at the sight, a small tingle in her stomach at his kindness, before finally forcing herself to move.

          “Good morning, sir.” 

     Snape hardly reacted, only with a slight nod before conjuring an empty plate within his hand and scooping a heap of food upon it. He flicked his wand from his sleeve to his wrist and sent the plate flying to the table, along with a cup of what smelled like coffee. Hermione’s mouth was watering. She eyed the breakfast in excitement. She had misjudged the Headmaster in many ways during the years, and now after an evening of tea and now breakfast, perhaps there was a sweet side to the man. She started towards the seat at the table. 

     Cutting right in front of her, Snape stalked over to the table and sat down. He stabbed a fried mushroom and brought it to his mouth greedily, and looked up at her with cold eyes. Hermione frowned, feeling like a balloon deflated from inside her. Snape looked down at his breakfast once again, obviously savoring his culinary skills.

          “There is limited food stock in the icebox.” His long fingers reached for a napkin, and he wiped the sides of his mouth. “Use only what you need.”

      Hermione bristled. Stalking over to the antique refrigerator, she yanked it open with more force than necessary. Spying the eggs, she collected two, along with a slice of bread and set to work on breakfast. 

     She wished the Headmaster would say something. She wanted nothing more than to jump into questions and to work out a plan. With a plan she would feel more in control. But she bit her tongue every time she started to ask something, in fear of how Snape would respond. Flipping her eggs one final time, she bit her lip and with a flick of her wand moved her food to a plate. Hearing rustling behind her, she turned to find the Headmaster no longer visible. He was now engaged and hidden behind a copy of the Daily Prophet. 

     Walking to the table she sat down, peeking a look at the headlines under her lashes. Nothing stood out to her from what she could see, but she itched to fully scan the paper. She wondered how Snape even acquired the text. Surely he wouldn’t accept owl post when they were in hiding. That would be risky. 

     Hermione nearly dropped her fork as Snape snorted from behind the paper, then laid it down flatly on the table. He was still engrossed in reading a small article in the bottom corner. Craning her neck she scanned looking for the headline. Her eyes narrowed in on it instantly and she stood up out of her seat to read. 

**Mysterious Thief Running Rampant in Hogsmeade:**

**There appears to be a serial robber in Hogsmeade with another confirmed robbery late last evening at Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop. Madam Puddifoot herself refused to comment, but speculators reporting seeing the front window of the shop blown out in the early hours of the morning. Nothing seems to have been taken, but now shopkeepers and visitors alike are concerned about the safety in the usual quiet town. Could this be a premonition to more dangerous events to come? Or is it simply the work of misguided youth.**

 

          “I suppose they are at least consistently dismal in hiring reporters who are skilled at writing.” Snape muttered. 

     A laugh tumbled out of her. 

          “I suppose so. This doesn’t tell us anything. Besides there was a breakin to Hogwarts, and that’s not larger news.” 

          “Only those who need to know are aware of last night’s events.” He folded the Prophet with a snap.

     Hermione realized she was standing and sat down. 

          “Speaking of that,” She prayed for Gryffindor bravery, “Headmaster, how long do you think we will need to remain at the safehouse? Surely the aurors and the Ministry are already on tracking the Lestranges and others. I was hoping to get back to my apprenticeship, Professor Slughorn and I had just started discussing an idea for my personal brewing project.” Her voice faded as she lost her nerve when a look of annoyance crossed the Headmaster face. 

          “We will remain here until it is safe to return.” He answered with a biting curt. 

     Hermione nodded knowing full well that would more than likely be the last word from him. Looking down at her breakfast, she realized she hadn’t made any tea. She stood to pad around the kitchen, filling the kettle. She felt the sadness linger in her spine once again, thinking about her apprenticeship. If only that was the only worry she had to keep in her mind. Sneaking a glance over at the Headmaster, she wondered what he was thinking. He appeared to have gone back to reading the prophet, lightly fingering the corner of one page. The tea kettle whistled, and she pulled it off the burner, searching for teacups. 

          “Memory charms are highly complex with layers of magic affecting the mind.” Snape grumbled before sipping from his own cup. 

     Hermione’s hand stilled on the cabinet door. She had never anticipated Professor Slughorn sharing her ideas, especially not with the Headmaster. Anxiety crept up her neck as she mentally recapped her conversation with her potions master. She had been so careful to not mention her parents. Her secrets still had to be safe. Still, she proceed with caution. 

          “Yes, I’ve done some research and am looking into the possibility of a multi-step potion dosing.” 

     The teacup shook slightly from her hands as she poured the boiling water. She returned to her seat and wrapped her hands around the cup to steady them. Snape’s gaze was still on the prophet. 

           “Many, much more skilled and experienced than yourself, have been attempting for decades. It is a project destined for failure and a waste of resources.”

          “I’ve read or requested most of the research, and only a handful have ever looked into it. It’s something that will take time of course. And I have noticed that those that have only focused on one to two dosages.”

      The Headmaster finally looked up from the paper to stare at her intently. Small lines around his eyes formed as he narrowed them. 

          “Why is this topic such an interest?”

     She wanted desperately to look away, smart enough to realize that she was in direct position for Occlumency, but Hermione kept his gaze. She had rehearsed this lie in her mind plenty of times. 

           “For people like Neville’s parents.” 

     The Headmaster snorted softly. 

            “How noble.”

     She felt her cheeks flush in annoyance. 

            “I think so.” She replied haughtily. 

     Hermione knew she was opening herself up to the wrath with such a tone but she couldn’t help herself. Snape merely snorted again. They fell back into the silence of before, while Hermione wondered why he even inquired. It wasn’t even his business, and he had made it incredibly clear he had no interest in her academics. She finished her breakfast and was taking the last few sips of her tea when the Headmaster spoke again. 

          “The Minister sent word early this morning.”

          “Oh?” 

     He stood up, scooping up the paper and scowling down at her fiercely. 

          “It appears that the investigation is taking more time. He suggests that we remain here. Clean up after yourself. You may only touch the books in the sitting room. But they go back exactly where they were found.”

     And with that he stalked out of the room with a swish of his robe. Hermione stared at the doorway and sighed. She wished she could still be suprised by such actions. Granted she was about the permission to read and explore the sitting room. But his ridiculous behavior was becoming rather normal. She was thankful that he at least was slightly honest with her about the Minister being in contact. Flicking her wand several times she cleaned up all dishes from breakfast levitating them over to the sink and began washing them by hand. At least she would have something to read. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys- yes I know long delay :( But I am not giving up on this fic!!! Trying to work on my writing but its slow going. Please be patient with me, I love writing this and am going to try and get back on track with weekly updates.


	15. Chapter Fifteen: Day Fourteen

**Chapter Fifteen: Day Fourteen**

_      Day Fourteen.  _

     Hermione wrote the words out in her small notebook she kept hidden in her beaded bag. She had started writing out small information about the time in the safe house on the third day. Not that there had been anything terribly interesting to report from the outside world, other than consistent silence from the Headmaster except to add some belittling remark about staying out of it. Mostly she kept record of the books. 

     The sitting room had such a variety of different books, including a large selection of Muggle novels. It was around the fifth day she came across a dusty copy of  _ The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe. _ Inside scrawled in tight handwriting was the familiar markings she had seen only a few years before.  _ Property of the Half Blood Prince. _ It was slightly different than the potions book Harry had found, it was more childlike. She had peaked over her shoulder to spot the Prince himself, sitting cross legged, deeply enthralled in his own book. To not risk her luck, she had shelved the books rather quickly, with a mental note of its location for further inspection. From that moment forward, Hermione was quite certain that the safe house was in fact Snape’s childhood home. However, she still had not yet reached a conclusion of what that could mean, nor how to feel about it. 

     It was one of the thoughts that kept her up most nights. Her sleep cycles had not improved with the nightmares coming regularly now. They were always a mix of the dark memories interlaced with new, and incredibly vivid visions. If they were even visions. The cause of these dreams were a constant riddle rolling around her brain. She would often wake up gasping or even screaming as she had the first night. There had even been a handful of days where Snape had to wake her with a gentle shake on the shoulder. He would often sit with her until her breathing returned to normal, then as silent as he entered, leave back to his room. He never said anything other than small reminders to breath. She still could not decide how to feel about that either. 

     On day eight, Hermione had the first of a reoccuring dream. It started off in a dark hallway, with her heart racing. There was a door at the end of the hall, and the strongest desire to run as fast as she could to it. Most nights, the door would never open or she wouldn’t reach it in time. But on nights ten through thirteen, it opened wide. Hermione always felt flushed even thinking about it. The door would open, and Snape would be there standing over her. At this point in the dream, it felt like her stomach was full of butterflies, as Snape’s obsidian eyes would be wide staring at her. The door would open and Hermione wanted nothing more in that dream except to reach up on her toes and kiss Snape. And of all the things she had to think and feel about lately, Hermione absolutely could not decide how to feel about the dream. 

_      Day Fourteen. _

     She traced over the words once more. It was well past midnight, and she felt her eyelids grow heavy, but evading sleep sounded like a better idea than having to think about or experience her dream. Glancing over to the dresser, she stared at the picture frames. They were too far away for her to see the young Snape’s in detail, she could only make out the outline of his figures. She mentally scoffed at herself. 

          “Why are you thinking about him at all.” She whispered to herself. 

     More than likely it was the result of loneliness. At Hogwarts, she never felt completely alone and the castle always had a low hum due to the sheer number of residences within the walls. Lots of moments she felt almost claustrophobic with the consistent presents of her peers, and she longed for the idea of loneliness. Now that she had it, however much she was enjoying it, it must have been upsetting to her psyche. What else could be causing such a dream. 

     She needed a distraction. Scooting off the bed, she snagged her fleece bathrobe off the foot of the bed swinging it on top of her short night dress. She tied the wrap securely. Walking as quiet as she could, she peeked her head out into the hall. The Headmaster had assumably retired a few hours ago. She thought she had heard his footsteps heavy in the hall. Swiveling her head towards the end of the hallway where his door was, she purposely pushed the eerie familiarity nagging at her consciousness. Instead she turned to begin creeping towards the sitting room. Tonight would be as good as any to further examine Snape’s childhood book. She had noticed he had added scawls in the margins, much like his potions book. Apparently his disregard for the integrity of books by writing in them was at least was inclusive to all genres. 

     Hermione froze instantly to the spot, almost tripping on her own feet. She had not anticipated the sitting room to be occupied. Snape looked up at her from the armchair and lowered the book he had been reading. She observed immediately that his teaching robe was draped across the back of the chair, revealing what she supposed what he normally wore underneath, a crisp white dress shirt and black slacks. He was holding a small crystal tumbler full of shimmering amber liquid, balancing it on his knee. Her eyes were most of all drawn to how his hair was tucked behind his ears, giving her full view of his high cheekbones which were flushed. Her heart’s cadence seemed to increase in her chest. 

          “Miss. Granger.” 

     Had his voice always been so deep?

          “Hello sir. I didn’t realize you were still awake”

     The corner of his mouth twitched. 

          “Yes, well it appears I am. And why is it you are still awake?”

     She shrugged awkwardly. 

          “Just couldn’t sleep.” 

          “Hmm.” He swiveled the crystal glass and the liquid spun, still staring at her. 

     Hermione felt herself shift her weight between her feet, wondering if she would ever recover from embarrassment if she turned and ran back to her room. 

          “Are you going to sit?” Snape’s iconic eyebrow rose with his question. 

          “Uhh.” She looked briefly back towards her room. Then back to the Headmaster. His lip twitched again, this time blooming into a smirk, like he was challenging her. Setting her shoulders she walked over to the threadbare loveseat and sunk down. Tucking her legs up beside her she tried her best to appear relaxed. Snape finally looked away to brought his glass to his lip and took a long swallow.

     Curiously he had not yet returned to his book. Hermione practiced her breathing techniques and let her gaze drift to the blazing fireplace. She wasn’t sure how to interpret his attitude. Maybe he was drunk. The idea made her cheeks flush even warmer. At least he had stopped staring at her, so he wouldn’t notice. 

          “Are you alright?” 

          “What?” Hermione felt her mouth open. She was rather certain, she had never heard him inquire about her well being before. He had to be sloshed. 

          “You’re rather red. Are you alright?”

          “Err, yes.” Her voice sounded unnaturally high. She cleared her throat. “ I’m just fine. How. How are you sir?”  

     Snape chuckled. It was a deep and silky and went straight to her stomach. It awoke strange and unfamiliar sensations that she didn’t want to acknowledge. 

          “I suppose I am just fine as well.” His gaze traveled to the fireplace. 

     Hermione focused on her breath and tried to reign in and apply her rational thought process. She had an idea of using this as an opportunity. Perhaps in this state Snape would actually answer some of her questions. She wondered if he would even just have a conversation. He was always so cold. She would take bickering if that meant the opportunity to talk. 

     Hermione re-positioned herself on the couch, lost in thought and unaware to Snape’s eyes flickering under his lashes. He stared half a second too long as her movement pulled on her robe, exposing her shapely legs and the hem of a rather short nightdress. Snape’s eyes returned to the fire and he drained his glass. 

     Settling her mental self argument, Hermione tugged on the fabric of her robe to recover her legs and forced words out of her mouth. 

          “Sir. May I ask you something?”

     Without looking at her he responded,

          “I suppose.”

     Ecstatic with his agreement, she pressed on testing the waters with a question she already knew. 

          “How did you know about my personal brewing project?”

     Snape stood suddenly, and her breath caught in her chest. She panicked thinking he was going to walk out, but he surprised her by walking over to the bookcase to the right of the fireplace. Tapping it once with his wand, it glimmered brilliant gold and the books disappeared revealing several crystal decanters that matched his crystal glass. He pulled the top off a bottle with a slight pop, and refilled his glass. 

          “I thought that would be obvious. Horace has always been a man fond of shamelessly taking credit of his students for his own bragging rights. You and your brewing project has become dull overused conversation in the faculty lounge by almost all the staff.”

     Hermione’s eyes widened at his curt honesty. 

          “They speak of me?”

     He snorted, and turned back towards her. She watched his stride finding it oddly graceful and new, since his thick teaching robes usually hid such things. Snape sunk back down into his armchair and folded his legs to rest an ankle on a knee. 

          “Of course they do. Your Gryffindor's Golden Princess. The Chosen One’s right hand. The Mythical War Hero.” The sarcasm dripped from his voice, as he watched her closely. 

     Clearly he was looking for a reaction, she thought. Hermione stared at him for a few moments. Then burst out laughing. Snape twitched in surprise at her reaction. He watched her closely, examining the way curls bounced wildly escaping out of the loose bun on top of her head. She doubled over, still erupting in giggles, the noise so foreign and pure, an uncontrollable series of chuckles came tumbling out of the Headmaster’s mouth. Hermione, wide eyed, looked up suddenly delighted. 

          “You just laughed!”

     The prickly man snapped his mouth shut, narrowing his eyes at her. His behavior reminded her of a certain child pouting in the portrait in her room. Hermione struggled to regain control of herself and her residual giggles as he looked away back into the fire. Taking in breaths, she finally settled back down. 

     A log cracked in the flames. Hermione could hear the faint tick of the antique clock in the hallway. She pondered his words. Thinking of how far from the truth they could be at first made her laugh. But as they settled, she felt the familiar bitterness crawl through her skin. Sure that was what she once was. Or what she wished she could be. Now she felt like an empty shell, plagued by nightmares, and scared of her own shadow. 

          “If only they knew.” She muttered to herself with a sigh, looking down to the dusty carpet. 

     She didn’t see Snape’s face turn sideways to watch her. Didn't see the look of pain that crosses his features as he studied the soft lines of her lips. She didn't see the breath that caught in his chest before he asked softly, 

          “Knew what?” 

     Hermione flinched. She hadn’t realize he hear her. The weight of her thoughts and words pressed on her shoulders, suddenly wanting to be set free. Her hazel eyes boldly sought out his. 

          “How broken I am.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for such a cliffhanger but wanted to get this chapter up, and this seemed like a great little angsty place to pause :) Also pondering a POV switch to Snape, which I kind of started here... What do you think??? 
> 
> Enjoy!!!


	16. Chapter Sixteen: Haunting Memories

**Chapter Sixteen: Haunting Memories**

     As the four words tumbled out of her mouth she realized how resolute they felt. They summed up her thoughts, her feelings, her actions perfectly. It was heartbreaking and freeing all in one moment. She had felt for months that she was no longer herself, and right now her biggest fear was she would never recover.

     Movement snapped her attention back to the present, as Snape moved to set his book and glass on the small table next to the armchair.

          “Explain.” He pressed, his voice soft.

    Hermione bit her lip and hesitated. Explaining something she barely understood herself was a daunting feat. Which had to be part of the reason she felt couldn’t connect with all those around her. McGonagall had been pressing her for months to talk to her or someone about the turmoil inside her. And Hermione was smart enough to know that to truly begin to heal she had to open up, but hadn’t been ready to. Ron had even tried time and time again to get her to talk about the war and she always found herself wanting to push him away even further for trying.

     Hermione studied the Headmaster. He was waiting patiently, simply gazing at her, face relaxed into his usual unreadable expression. It was in that moment, she felt peaceful sitting there with Snape, she knew she could open up to him. It didn’t make sense, they were on the run in constant danger, hiding in a safehouse without hardly any contact to the outside world. She wasn’t even sure if the Headmaster liked her or had ever liked her due to his constant belittling remarks, sneers or flat out silence. Nor was she sure of the unexplainable feelings that had been lingering within her with the her haunting dreams of him. But looking into Snape’s dark eyes she knew she could trust him.

          “I am not sure where to even start. Other than I don’t feel like myself. I don’t feel like a war hero. I don’t even feel like Hermione Granger.”

     As she collected her thoughts, he remained silent, ready to listen. It brought up a memory, not long before she left for Hogwarts with Ron.

_She had followed him up to his bedroom in the Burrow. The afternoon air was thick and warm, almost all of the inhabitants of the house had wandered to the garden for tea and a game of Quidditch. Ron’s palm was rather sticky as he grabbed her hand and pulled her next to him on his bed. He leaned in, finding her lips for a kiss as sticky as his hands. She had always let him kiss her, never pulling back despite her instincts tickling at the back of her neck. When he finally pulled away, he looked at her, brown eyes wide with pity. Her stomach dropped with his look._

_“‘Mione, talk to me. You hardly talk to me anymore.” He pleaded._

_He wrapped a hand around the back of her neck, which he much have assumed was a comforting position. She felt trapped._

_“It’s hard to express Ron. I just feel like everything is so different now-”_

_“It is different. We are together now.”_

_He had smiled at her, so wide, at one point in her life, it would have been heart fluttering. But now she just felt empty. He squeezed the back of her neck._

_“Yes, we are.” She had mumbled._

_Ron had kissed her again, clearly done with talking. As always she had stopped him when his hands brushed the button of her jeans, and she tried to ignore his puppy dog eyes once again._

_“Come on, babe, I’ve been waiting so long. I love you so much.”_

_“Soon Ron.”_

_“Promise?”_

_“Promise.” She lied._

_Much later that night, Hermione laid in the dark, alone in her own borrowed bed, wondering what it would feel like if someone just listened._

 

          “Sometimes I can’t tell what’s real, and what’s memories. Or flashback. Or these new dreams. It’s infuriating. I can’t sleep. Can’t eat sometimes.”

     Her voice cracked as tears swelled her throat. Embarrassed, she hung her head, covering her face with her hands.

          “I never use to cry.” She mumbled through her fingers fighting to not to let the tears escape. Panic whispered through her system. Dark memories were trying to resurface but she fought them too, trying to force them back into the corners of her mind.

     Peeking in between her fingers she looked over to the man sitting quietly across from her. He wasn’t looking at her, as if he was giving her privacy, his gaze was still on the roaring fireplace across the room, but she sensed he was still listening, intently. The idea brought her comfort. When she inhaled, Hermione felt her chest expand a little wider. She regained control of her tears enough to continue with a question that had been nagging her for months.

          “Do you think it will get better?”

     Snape sighed quietly. She pulled her fingers from her face to watch him once again. He moved to sip from his glass again, taking a deep swallow.

     He set the glass back on the table, before murmuring.

          “In time.”

     Hermione nodded although it wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear.

           “Although it will never completely leave you.”

     Goosebumps raised on her arms with his words, but his expression hardly changed. A heavyweight dropped between her shoulder blades at the realization of their common demons. Snape had suffered much more than she could even imagine. Not long after the war, Harry had shared with her all he had learned from the Headmaster’s past, the night of the war. Snape’s suffering had been much more than her’s.

          “I’m sorry, sir.” She wondered if he still had nightmares.

          “Whatever for?” Snape’s face moved into a bitter smile, and absentmindedly rubbed the inside of his left forearm.

     Hermione wondered if he ever had anyone to talk, if anyone would or had listened. The urge to comfort him shocked through her bones. Hermione craved to touch him, hold his hand. Working on pure impulse she stood, moving toward the arm chair..

     He hadn’t noticed her approach until she was right at his shoulder, and he turned his face to her, eyes wide. His hand was resting on the wing of the armchair. Hermione reached down and covered the pale fingers with her own small hand. A tingle ran up her wrist with the contact, and she felt a hum tingle within the pit of her stomach.

     The Headmaster tensed up, frozen to the spot. Hermione squeezed his hand lightly. His obsidian eyes slid from her face to their hands, then back to her face. A strangled noise came from Snape’s throat. His cheeks blossomed into a deep red. Hermione’s intake of breath made a soft wooshing sound.

     Standing up, Snape dropped her hand, then moved out of the room in three sweeping steps. Pushed back by the force of his abrupt exit, Hermione blinked wildly around the empty room. The sharp snap of a slamming door echoed throughout the entire house.

     She stood there for several minutes before remembering she could move. Not wanting to return to her room, she looked back towards the bookcase thinking of her initial motive. Spotting the tattered Muggle novel, Hermione settled back down on the couch with a new height of confusing feelings.

~

     Severus turned the cold water tap as far as it would twist, nearly taking the knob completely off the wall. Placing both hands against the shower walls, he forced himself to remain stone still as the freezing streams of water pelted his head. He wished the cold would seep into his clearly malfunctioning mind, freezing out thoughts he should not be holding.

     His eyes glanced up to his hands bracing the tile. Her hand had been warm against his. Her fingers were small, matching her petite frame. They were, he struggled for the word. Dainty. Her fingers were dainty. Severus groaned. He entertained the thought briefly of banging his head against the grimy shower tiles. Instead, he drew the conclusion that he had finally lost his mind.

     Two wars. Thousand of losses. Millions of sacrifices. But a damned 19-year-old child was what finally sent him over the edge. And now being confined within the walls of this bloody house with her. And her dainty hands.

     Slamming off the taps in frustration he wandlessly summoned a towel. The shower had done nothing but sober him up, and piss him off. Shaking his head, his long strands of hair flung water all around him. He finished drying and wrapped the towel around his waist.

     Storming back into the bedroom, Snape glared around the dusty space. He hated this house. At least he had the sense to give the girl his mother’s old room which was the nicest in the decrepid space. He was staying in the bedroom of his childhood. Over the summer he had returned to Spinner’s End, spending only three days in the house before the repressed memories started bubbling to the surface. So he had immmediatly set off to London finding more unorthodox ways to keep his demons at bay. His nights in the city were still difficult to recall, other then flashes of flesh and firewhiskey. Returning to the damned house the night before the term started he seriously considered setting the place on fire. Kingsley had been the one to convince him of the possibility’s as a keeping it safe house, since it’s magical enchantments were one of the strongest encountered. Although neither of them have ever thought that it would need to be in use so soon after the end of the war.

     Now they had been there a fortnight, and his own nightmares were becoming more than just lucid images but concrete terrors. But it wasn’t his nightmares he was concerned for. He walked over and sat on the edge of the double bed and hung his head in his hands, sighing.

     Despite weeks of feigning ignorance of his feelings, the girls fragile state had been consuming him with concern since the summer. They crossed paths only twice before the term, and he noted her uncharacteristic silence. Then in the Great Hall she walked into the welcome feast and his breath left his chest. She was so pale, her sharp eyes dulled with dark circles underneath. Then the night where she had lost control, when he had to enter her mind. It changed him in ways he had struggled to ignore.

     Hermione Granger had undeniably been his brightest student. She was infuriatingly stubborn, and constantly challenged authority. He was not a pleasant man, but something about her had always gotten under his skin. Snape wanted to hate her. But it was her that saved him. Something he could never forget. And now something else was changing. He could almost still feel the small pressure of her hand over his. He frowned.

     Thankfully Severus had years of practice pushing away all feelings and thoughts. Cleaning his mind, he stood once again to dress, pulling on only boxers, t-shirt and a soft pair of pajamas. Tomorrow he would make contact with Kingsley. Tell the Minister he had to go back to Hogwarts, Lestrange be damned. Tomorrow, he would make Granger no longer his problem. With a flick of his fingers the lights went out and he crawled into bed. Shutting his eyes tightly, he pretended to sleep.

 

     Severus awoke to the familiar sound of Granger’s screams, although they sounded further away. Sitting straight up in bed, he listened. A high pitched scream filled the house.  Then,

          “NO! PLEASE STOP!”

     He was on his feet instantly, taking long strides towards the sound. He headed down the hallway and pushed open her door. Panic hit his stomach as he searched the room finding no sign of the girl. A whimper sounded from the other end of the house. He turned heading to the sitting room as fast as his feet would take him.

     Severus stopped in his tracks at the entryway to the sitting room. Granger’s forehead was shined with sweat, her long chestnut curls flowed wildly all around her. Raw sensation clamped around his stomach, traveling lower, as he stared at her. Then her face contorted in pure terror as she screamed once again.

     Kneeling down by her, he shook her small shoulders gently and murmured,

          “Come on now, wake up Granger.”

     Hazel eyes flew open wide, tears poured down her face, and she inhaled in a shuttering breath. Severus released his hands from her shoulders and leaned back on his heels away from her.

          “Breath.” He commanded.

     She obeyed. He watched as the ragged breath lifted her chest. Once her breath had returned to a normal cadence, he moved himself to his usual arm chair, watching her closely. The tears still flowed freely. Her cheeks were turning pink, she appeared embarrased. He forced his face into a scowl, and stepled his fingers over his lips.

          “I’m sorry, Headmaster.” Her voice trembled. As did her hands.

     He made a noncommital noise.

          “The nightmares. They. Well they seem to be getting worse.”

          “It seems so.” He commmented, his thoughts already turning.

     He had seen the inside of her mind. The truma would continue to effect her. Soon she would stop sleeping all together. He knew the signs all too well.

          “Sir, please. Help me.” Her small fingers whiped away the wetness from her face.

     A gripping pressure squeezed his chest, and he looked to the bookshelf behind her. She could over come this, but it was a process he would never wish on anyone. McGonagall had been pressing him to bring this option to her for months, though he had wished it wouldn’t come to this. Occulmency lessons had been his compromise, foolishly wishing it would be simple for her. He had seen countless wizards and witches loose their minds completely at Mungo’s going through the treatment.  But then again, he had seen glimses of the strenght this young woman could possess.

     Resolving his discision, he mentally cursed himself for the hell she was about to enure if she agreed.

          “Choose the worse. The one that haunts you even outside of dreams. Learn to own it. Accept it. Then the rest will seem dull in comparison. Occlumency can still help.”

           “How?” She squeaked.

     Snape turned to her finally, his irises so dark they reflected the amber firelight.

           “You have to revisit the memory. Not just once, but hundreds of times until it no longer triggers a reaction. It’s difficult but effective.”

     He noticed her body’s reaction as she thought about it thinking about it. Revisiting the worst memory hardly seemed possible without completely breaking down. The girl rubbed her palms against her legs. Her shoulder began to shrink into herself. She brought her hands to her face again and he heard her begin counting her breaths. It was as if acting under the imperius curse, his legs moved on their own accord.

     She flinched then froze when she felt the sag of the loveseats cushion decompress next to her as he sat down. She was so close. He could smell a hint of jasmin, and rose. Probably from her hair.

          “Hermione”

     Snape had not meant to say her name. His voice came out lower than he intended. His ears burned as the blood rushed to his neck and head. The feeling of of her name on his lips echod around his skull.

     He hooked a finger around her hands that was still covering her face, pulling them away to fall into her lap. She blinked at him, lips parting slightly. His brain shut down. She trembled, her shoulders pitching forward slightly. A strand of his hair fell in front of his eyes.

     Snape cleared his throat, leaning back. “It’s late.”

          “Yes.”

     Realizing the position he was in, he wanted to move. Knew he should.

           “Professor, can I ask you something?” She whispered in the small space between them.

          “What Miss. Granger?”

          “May I hug you?”

      His brain short circuted and he felt his jaw slacken. Granger’s tears returned.

          “I mean. I’m sorry sir. I just really. I just really need someone to hold-”

     Severus stood and grabbed her shoulders pulling her up. Wrapping his arms around her, it didn’t take her long till he felt her small frame collapse into his shoulder and the sobs consumed her. He held her tightly, as his thoughts turned to full panic. Severus had no idea what he was doing. This was ridiculous. It was impossible. He couldn’t let this continue. But still his arms held her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's sappy... but I couldn't help it!! ;) Enjoy!


	17. Chapter Seventeen: A Visit

**Chapter Seventeen: A Visit**

     Hermione felt herself relax and her hands wrapped around Snape’s waist. She pressed her cheek further into the fabric of the Headmaster’s shirt feeling the solid chest beneath the thin fabric. Her tears had subsided gradually and turned into hiccups. The sound of his steady heartbeat was soothing, his body heat warming her, she didn’t want to pull away. 

     She couldn’t say when the changed happened. Perhaps it was as far back to the night on the floor of the Shrieking Shack. Maybe it was the strange dreams that haunted her night after night. But Hermione could not deny the strong sense of contentment she felt being so close to the Headmaster.  And surprisingly, Snape had not moved or pulled away from her. 

     Biting her lip as another hiccup jumped through her chest. Her nose was beginning to run. Hermione pulled just her head back, loosening the grip on Snape’s waist. Wiping her nose, she looked under her lashes shyly at the tall man. His gaze was stony, staring at a spot above her head. She smiled timidly at him as his gaze flickered to her as he realized where she was looking. Snape released his arms and stepped away from her. Hermione inhaled as best as she could with her sniffling nose. 

          “Thank you, sir.” She murmured shyly.

          “Tomorrow, if you are willing, we can resume Occlumency lessons.”

     His voice turned cold, academic. Uncontrollably, her face fell, and she felt cold away from his body heat. 

          “I would like too.” She wrapped her own arms around herself. 

          “Good.” 

     Snape turned his back to her, walking towards the hallways. Hermione studied his back and wondered if she should start a tally of how many times he aloofly walked away from her. It was losing its infuriating luster. Her eyes scanned the broadness of his shoulders. Although his shirt was loose, there was still a soft outline of his shoulder blades. His dark hair was getting long, and even in the dim light of the dying fire, it shined. Hermione entertained the idea of what it might feel like between her fingers. 

     As he disappeared down the hallway, Hermione picked up the book she had dropped after falling asleep on the couch and made her way slowly back to her own bedroom. Closing the door softly behind her she stared at the wood patterns, sorting her thoughts. 

     Her heart fluttered quite wildly in her chest. There was something there that she couldn’t ignore. Hermione took a deep breath and tested his name almost silently on her lips. 

          “Severus.”

     Sensations danced around her stomach. With a small smile she made her way back to the small bed and stared up at the ceiling. Tomorrow things would be different. Hermione’s mind began building an entire plan of how to proceed. 

     Sitting up in bed suddenly with an idea, she extended her wand and summoned her beaded bag from its spot on top of the dresser. After a few moments of digging she found her treasures.

     The first item was a small leather bound journal. Holding it in her hands, she felt the anxiety tickle her neck, knowing the what words lied beneath the cover. Hermione had written down every moment of her time during the height of the war. Including every detail of the night in Malfoy Manor. Dropping the book with a shudder, she knew she would have plenty of time to worry about that during Occlumency lessons. 

     The second item was her favorite clothing item she owned. It was a soft cotton wrap dress that her mother had bought her a few summers ago. Hermione had only worn it outside her bedroom once, a memory she still frowned at the thought of. 

 

_      It was the first weekend being back at the Burrow after the war, and she climbed down the stairs smiling at the way the dress swayed as she walked. It was the first time the memories had been at bay enough for her to put something on other than her ratty sleep clothes. The soft fabric had her feeling rather pretty, and she had even charmed her hair to behave into smooth curls.  _

_      Hermione’s foot had not even touched the bottom step before Ron’s voice carried throughout the room.  _

_           “What are you wearing?” _

_      Head snapping up to meet the redhead’s gaping face, her smile fell. She looked back down to the dress, then back at Ron. _

_           “A dress?”  _

_           “Yes, but it Slytherin colors.” His nose wrinkled in disgust.  _

_      She looked back down to the emerald green fabric and blinked. The memory of the day she bought the dress, and the sparkling look of tears in her mum’s eyes almost brought her to her knees. Without a word, Hermione walked back upstairs and changed.  _

 

     Hermione ran her fingers across the soft fabric again and made up her mind. Tomorrow she would wear this dress. 

     With new found resolve, she laid back down. With a blush she wondered how it would feel to sleep with arms wrapped tightly around her, protecting her from nightmares. Within a few minute she fell asleep, clutching the dress and her pillow as if she was holding onto a certain tall and mysterious man. 

~

     Hermione pried her eyes open slowly and groggily. Groaning slightly, she stretched her arms overhead and stared up at the ceiling. Voices down the hallway caused her to sit  straight up in bed and gripping her wand from under her pillow. Listening carefully, she crept out of bed, summoning her beaded bag. As she reached the door, she whispered, 

          “Accio Extendable Ear.”

     The soft fleshy instrument flew out of the bag and she dropped to the floor and peaked under the door jam. From the small crack under the door, the hallway looked clear. Carefully she extended the ear under the door, fishing it down the hall several feet. Bringing it to her ear, she listened closely. 

          “And there is still no sign of them?” She recognized Snape’s baritone drawl, “That hardly seems possible with the full force of the ministry’s finest on the search.”

          “Severus.” Hermione’s eyebrows shot straight up her head and she gasped as she recognized the sharp matronly tone of Professor McGonagall. 

          “It’s complicated Severus, we have some leads. We are focused on Grangers and your safety first.” She also recognized the booming voice of the Kingsley. 

     A sharp snort followed.

          “Ensuring safety is something I cannot handle then?” Snape snarled. 

          “No ones implying that Severus, be reasonable- ” McGonagall chided before the Minister interrupted, sounding heated.

          “You know full well what Lestrange has threatened against the girl, not to mention the threats promised toward you.”

          “And you know full well that as long as she is with me, not harm shall befall her. Perhaps I should take up searching for the Lestranges myself since it seems that is too difficult a task.”

     Hermione felt stunned momentarily by the first part of the  Headmaster’s words. But the two voices that spoke next had her on her feet. 

          “What is that supposed to mean?” The unmistakable voice of Ron rang through the Extendable Ear, followed by Harry hissing, 

          “Ron!”

     Tugging on the Extendable Ear she rolled it back into her hand. Stashing her beaded bag within the hidden compartment behind her bed, she flicked her wand at the door causing it to open silently.  Tip-toeing her way down the hallway, she continued listening and determined they must be in the sitting room. The conversation continued to sound heated, and she heard Snape’s voice raise as she rounded the corner. 

          “It means Weasley, that the Ministries so called best and brightest, are mere children-”

          “‘Mione!”

     Hermione’s eyes filled with tears as she ran straight into the arms her best friends. Harry threw his arms around her, squeezing her into a bone crushing hug, while Ron wrapped his arms around both of them. 

          “You’re here!” She pulled back, looking over both of them.

     Despite the worry lines in their foreheads, they looked healthy and more filled out than before. As soon as Harry released her Ron stepped closer and wrapped his arms around   her waist. 

          “Merlin, I’ve missed you!” 

     His lips came crashing down onto her own and Hermione felt her cheeks flare with embarrassment, but she didn’t pull away. When he finally released her mouth and nuzzled his nose into her hair, she couldn’t stop herself from peeking under her lashes over to the Headmaster. 

     The intensity of his expression caught her breath. He was looking away towards the entryway of the kitchen, with his jaw set so tight it was twitching slightly. Suddenly her skin started to crawl with the overpowering urge to shrug herself out of Ron’s embrace. Instead she placed her hands on the redheads chest to push him back gently, moving to hug the other visitors in the room. 

          “Minister, Professor, it’s so good to see you. What brings you here?” 

     Hermione felt herself wanting to gravitate to stand next to the Headmaster, but Ron pulled her into his side, hand squeezing her waist. 

          “I wish it was to bring news, but unfortunately there are no leads emerging yet.” Kingsley replied, his eyes glancing over towards Snape. 

          “It’s not for the lack of trying ‘Mione. We’ve been searching non stop ever since she attacked you again. We’ve searched Malfoy Manor, found nothing. It was rather creepy too be back. Still looks the same, the chandelier is even still shattered on the floor.”

     Goosebumps raised on Hermione’s arms as Ron’s voice was drowned out by static sound within her head. She felt her chest tighten. Kingsley and Harry were saying something now. The room changed, and she glanced around the empty hall of Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix laugh was echoing through the halls as she saw movement of a shadow from the corner of her eye. 

     Somehow, she could feel dark eyes staring at her, pulling her back into the sitting room. Hermione looked up into Snape’s gaze and the static sound began to dull. She watched transfixed as his chest seemed to rise and fall steadily, as if encouraging her to breath. Matching her breath to his, she felt the tension in her body slowly begin to release. The sounds of the room came back to her. Snape looked away. 

     Hermione blinked, feeling oddly deflated without his eye contact. Glancing back at the room, she was relieve to find almost no-one had noticed and was occupied in their own bickering. Professor McGonagall however, was looking back and forth between Hermione and the Headmaster, her eyebrows raising. Hermione opened her mouth, 

          “Well no matter, you’re here now. Can I fix anyone tea? Or lunch?”

          “That would be great Hermione, I’m hungry.” Harry smiled toothily at her. 

     She smiled back and pulled out of Ron’s grip. As she walked in the kitchen, she didn’t dare look, but swore she felt Snape’s eyes following her. 

     An hour later, the party was sated with tea and sandwiches. The Headmaster, Minister and Professor McGonagall took their leave into the sitting room, while the Golden Trio remained at the tiny kitchen table trying to make out the hushed conversation in the other room. 

          “So, Hermione. How has it been here, really?” Harry leaned in and whispered, while Ron grabbed her hand. 

          “Yeah, I can’t imagine being stuck in a house for two weeks with that overgrown bat. I’m surprised you haven’t hexed him into tomorrow.” Ron snorted. 

     She frowned, and replied icily. 

          “We’ve been getting along just fine.” She felt her cheeks color a bit, thinking back to the previous night and how Snape had held her.

     Harry’s green eyes shifted to hers, but Ron continued as if she hardly spoke. 

          “I know why he did the things he did during the war to protect Harry, but still I can’t stand him.”

     Hermione had to bite her tongue to keep her word lashing in. Still clueless, Ron sighed and leaned over in his chair to hug her shoulders awkwardly. He pressed a sloppy kiss to her forehead, before whispering in her ear,

          “Ah, I missed you.” 

     Forcing a smile on her face, she quieted trying to listen to the conversation within the other room. The voices seemed to be rising, and she could make out Snape’s low voice growling followed by McGonagall’s sharp reply. 

     Harry shifted in his seat.

          “Hermione, we really have been searching non stop for Lestrange.” He muttered sheepishly.

          “I know that Harry. I trust you two completely.”  Both boys nodded.  “But there really has been no signs at all?” She added, pulling away from Ron who was much to her annoyance, peppering kisses into her hair.

          “No,” Harry sighed. “It seems strange. As if we are looking right at them or where they should be, but nothing is there.”

     She hummed to respond unsure of what to say to such an odd statement. The voices from the other room grew louder but still not loud enough to understand what was said. Harry sat up and looked towards the entryway, then back at Hermione and Ron. He pushed off the arms of the kitchen chair, standing. 

          “Perhaps I should go make sure everything is okay in there. Plus give you two some alone time.” He winked, and Hermione felt the blood drain from her face. 

          “You don’t have-” She began, but Ron cut her off. 

          “Thanks mate.” 

     Hermione turned in her chair, watching Harry disappear into the sitting room. Warm clammy fingers cupped her chin, and swiveled her head back. As his mouth came crashing back onto hers, guilt came crashing through her system. How could she explain that it was no longer Ron’s lips she wanted on hers? 

~

     Severus pinched the bridge of his nose till black spots appeared behind his eyelids. Not one single sign of Lestrange. What in the hell kind of investigation was Kingsley running. Not to mention the notion of having to spend indefinite numbers of weeks still in this house. He flashed open his eyes, and was just opening his mouth to lash against Minerva’s thinly veiled insult of Hogwarts managing without him, when Potter strolled into the room with a smirk on his face. 

     The boy had enough sense to realize when the room fell silent that he was not invited to the conversation, and he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. 

          “Sorry to interrupt, but the lovebirds needed some space.”

     Severus’s knuckles cracked audibly as his fists balled by his sides and unexplainable anger burned through him. Kingsley chuckled,

          “No matter, we best be off anyway. It’s a gamble to have stayed so long as it is.” The Minister turned back to Severus, and pulled him into an awkward hug. 

          “Take care of yourself Severus, and Granger.”

          “I will.” He said through gritted teeth. 

     Minerva reached up and patted his cheek, an expression she knew full well Severus hated.

          “I’ll keep you updated as best as I can. Take care of her.” she whispered before turning back to Harry.  “Think we’ve given them enough time?” 

     Minerva’s eyebrows nearly shot off her head as Severus let out a growl and dug his heels into the floorboards, propelling him into the kitchen. Sure enough, Weasley was sucking her face like a leech. 

     Grabbing the back of the redhead’s collar and yanking him to his feet, he snarled. 

          “Time to go back to the pound, Weasley. Maybe next time you could learn some manners. And Miss.Granger, I’d appreciate if you would refrain from such disgusting attempts to fornocate where I eat.”

          “Letgo!” The boy slurred, as he feebly attempted to bat Severus’s hand off. 

     Out of the corner of his eye, Severus noted the deep crimson of Granger’s cheeks, and knew she would not let him forget his words. A ripple of regret caught in his stomach, before he shoved it aside along with the Weasley boy. 

     Potter hugged the girl quickly, murmuring  “I’ll write when I can. Love you.”, before coming to the rescue of his friend and pulling him towards Kingsley, who had just pulled an old pocket watch from his robes. 

          “Bye ‘Mione, I love you babe.” Weasley blew a kiss in Granger’s direction. 

     Severus rolled his eyes but watched the girl carefully. She only looked at her shoes embarrassed.  

          “Only a minute, we must go Granger.”

     Minerva and Kingsley both took turns embracing the girl, and he tried not to gag on their warm words. The visitors formed a circle, touching a part of the pocket watch. 

          “Be safe, please.” She pleaded, and he thought he spotted tears in her eyes. 

     With a whooshing sound followed by a loud pop the party disappeared from the small kitchen. Severus turned to the girl, then his eyes widened in surprise. She was practically vibrating with rage.

          “I was not. I wouldn’t.” She stumbled, her nose scrunching as if she was trying to put venom in each word. 

     Severus was nearly blindsighted by the thought of how lovely her cheeks looked so flushed. His mind constructed an image of her cheeks flushed for very different reasons. He felt his own cheeks burn. Collecting himself, he spat before turning on his heel. 

          “I refuse to argue with a child.”

     As he retreated towards the hallway, he heard her sputter once more, before small footsteps echoed after him. 

          “I AM NOT A CHILD!” Her scream nearly stopped him in his tracks, but instead it was the forceful tug on his sleeve. 

     With strength he didn’t expect, her pull whirled him around. Severus found himself for the first time lost for words, and his jaw slackened. Granger’s eyes widened and ping ponged back and forth between her hand on his sleeve and his stunned face. She released his sleeve. 

          “I wasn’t attempting to fornocate.” 

     Severus snorted. 

          “I just. He just. He just kissed me.” She continued awkwardly.  

     Looking up at the corner of the ceiling, he frowned so his face was unreadable. Still she continued as if the words were suddenly falling out of her. 

          “I don’t know what to do when he kisses me. We are supposed to be together, everyone expects it. So I have to let him kiss me when he wants too. I should enjoy it. But I don't. I can’t stand-”

          “Are you done Miss. Granger?” He snarled looking intently into her tear filled hazel eyes. 

          “Yes.” Her voice shook. 

     With a sharp nod, Severus turned and retreated to his room in only three steps. Slamming the door as hard as he could behind him, he ignored the cloud of dust that puffed around the door frame. Running a hand down his face, he marched over to the small bar set on the mantle above the small fireplace. Not bothering for a glass, he popped the cork off the bottle of firewhiskey and began swallowing. After half the bottle was gone, he pulled back and focused on the burn that spread from his throat to his stomach. The pain did nothing to stop the visions or the feelings he didn’t want, nor didn’t expect to have of Granger’s lips on someone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter update better late than never I hope... :) The next one is getting very tricky to write, but I promise it will be worth it!


	18. Chapter Eighteen: A Truce

**Chapter Eighteen: A Truce**

     Severus awoke facedown on his bed. Rolling over, he moaned aloud as his head felt like it was going to split clean in half. Cursing out loud, he realized he was not in his expansive Headmaster’s quarters at Hogwarts. Meaning he had none of his brews of hangover relief. Moaning again, he rolled to a sitting position and ran a hand over his face, the events of the previous evening returning through the fog.

The pain in his head was almost a familiar welcome back into control. He was slipping lately, getting soft after the war, having feelings and thoughts he couldn’t afford to ever entertain. The girl had gotten under his skin in ways that he hadn’t felt in years. It was equally thrilling and terrifying. But if time had taught him anything, it was to always be in control. He could control this. Pushing past the pain he made his way to the bathroom. Turning the taps as cold as they would go, he stepped into the shower shivering.

The cold shower had semi helped his aching head, and Severus dressed in his standard teaching robes. His fingers stilled on the top button of his robes, and he inhaled deeply. Delicious smells wafted into his room, making his uneasy stomach rumble. He tucked his wand into his sleeve. 

     With a flick of his fingers, the door flew open, and the smells intensified. Music, presumably from the old Wizards radio in the kitchen, softly chimed through the halls.

     A childhood memory that had been deeply buried for years unearthed itself in Severus’s mind. His mother had sometimes played the radio on mornings when his father was presumably still asleep. Visions of running through a sun-filled hallway towards the sound stilled him.

     Shaking his head, he pressed all unwanted memories and continued down the hall as slow as possible. Reaching his destination, Severus’s eyebrows nearly shot off his head when the kitchen came into full view.

     Classical music played softly filling the kitchen with sound, as Granger was softly swaying in time. Her back was to him, her wand raised and dancing towards the delicious smelling breakfast sizzling on the stovetop. Her hair was piled high on her head in a ponytail, and Severus gaze slid down the profile of her slim frame which was outlined masterfully in an emerald green dress. When she turned, Severus nearly choked on his own tongue. The dresses fabric dipped low at the neckline revealing soft curves that made his throat feel thick. The dress made her look considerably older than her nineteen years. 

          “Good morning Headmaster!”

     He frowned, realizing where his gaze was lingering. Crossing his arms, he fixed his eyes on the stove behind her.

          “What are you doing?”

     Granger’s grin crinkled to her nose, and he wanted to hit himself for uttering a stupid question with a more than obvious answer. 

          “Cooking breakfast. If I observed correctly, you enjoy your eggs scrambled?”

     His head was throbbing far too much for this. Ignoring her question, he swept past her and sat at the table. Waving his hand, he summoned a cup of coffee along with yesterday’s Prophet. Opening it up and burying his nose within in, and cataloged the noise of her every step. Granger was back at the stove, humming softly to the music apparently unfazed by his coldness. He pretended to turn the page, letting a corner fall for a few seconds. Her back was to him once again, and she was piling food on a plate. Severus flipped the corner up just in time as she turned back to him. 

     A steaming plate was set in front of him, brushing past the paper. Severus looked down and his mouth watered. A large pile of scrambled eggs on toast along with sausages. He inhaled the delectable smell as silently as possible and his stomach clenched in anticipation. Knowing her eyes were still focused on him, he folded the paper as carefully and slowly as possible back into its original shape. Finally, he picked up his fork and impaled a bit of sausage. It practically melted in his mouth. 

     Above him, Granger placed her hands on her hips, a cocked her head to the side. 

          “Sir, can we talk?”

     Severus wondered if the best course of action would be to grab the plate and return back to his room, but kept his face masterfully blank and remained where he was. Drawing out her discomfort in his silence, he casually picked up his cup and took a long sip. Granger shifted her weight, and he could almost feel her hazel eyes burning into his skull.

          “Professor Snape?”

     Severus looked up finally. She had crossed her arms, accentuating the cut of her dress. He cursed his thoughts. 

          “If you have something you wish to say, I am not stopping you.” He snapped. 

     Granger bit her lip, then sat down in the chair opposite of him. Her eyes flashed brighter, and she sat up straighter in her chair. The look was familiar, it was one he had seen many times within the classroom, the look of her wild determination. It was something he rather respected about her, despite its disruption to his expected control within the classroom. He realized he had not seen this look in her eyes since the war. The thought twisted his chest.

          “I have several things that I think we need to discuss. First of all, I would like to propose a truce.” Granger paused, still keeping her gaze steady. 

          “A truce?” 

           “Yes. We don’t know how long we are going to be here, and it’s been several weeks already. It feels uncomfortable to continually ignore each other or be uncivil when we could try to be friends.”

     Severus’s first instinct was to sneer at her childish words. Be friends. He wasn’t sure he considered anyone a friend. Besides that, she was still a student under his care as Headmaster. They couldn’t be friends. An old memory came to the surface of his mind, like a tidal wave.

 

          “ _ I don’t have friends.” _

_          “Everyone needs at least one friend, Sev. Aren’t we friends?” _

_      Lily’s fiery hair swung over her shoulders and she smiled at him. It made his stomach flutter. He felt the corner of his lips come up ever so slightly. Lily laughed, it was soft and tinkly.  _

_           “See, friends make you smile!” _

 

     Severus focused back on Granger’s hazel eyes and her unruly curls that were escaping her ponytail. He thought about her intelligence and wittiness. Granger smiled softly at him. His stomach fluttered wildly. 

          “I could agree to be civil.” He finally choked out tightly. 

     Her smile widened triumphantly for just a few moments before she grew focused once more. 

          “Thank you, sir. Now, I would very much like to continue my Occlumency lessons. If possible today. This morning perhaps.”

     To avoid his unexplainable desire to stare at the girl, Severus focused back to his breakfast. He snorted with his mouth full of egg at her eagerness. 

     When she didn’t respond, he swallowed and grumbled, 

          “Impatient, are we?”

     Granger only smiled again,

           “Yes, sir. I have a theory.” 

           “Which is?” 

          “Well, it has to be tested. So in order to fully explain, I think it would be best to start lessons.” She looked towards the window, her own thoughts overtaking her. 

     Whatever could she be talking about? Instead of responding, he continued to eat. As much as he wanted to deny it, he was terribly curious now. Across from him, Granger stood and began waving her wand cleaning up the breakfast dishes. He watched when her back was turned as she fixed herself a cup of coffee. A splash of milk and two sugar cubes. By the time she sat back down, he was sipping the rest of his own black coffee and leaned back in the seat. 

          “Have you practiced?” 

     A blush crept up her exposed neck, 

         “Err, not as much as I should have. I wasn’t sure if we would be-“

     Severus’s wand slid from his sleeve to his palm as he locked his eye contact. 

         “Legilimens” 

     He slipped into her mind without any resistance. Although not entirely surprising, it was pleasant how organized she was. Since their first practices, she had organized and catalogued. It reminded him of a muggle library system. He searched for easy prey, something fresh and brand new. 

 

_      She recognized the classical piece from her childhood. The soft beginnings of the cello always seemed so beautiful. She swayed back and forth, and the skirt of her dress floated around her. Trying to be as quiet as possible, she began humming. Pushing up on her toes, she spun, emerald green fabric fanned around her.   _

 

     The vision began to fade as she worked to push him out of her mind. Severus ignored his wild heartbeat and pressed further for something more personal. He found himself seeking the recent memory of the Weasley idiot. The scene unfolded sharply. 

_      His hands were clammy as they turned her chin towards him. She knew he was coming in for a kiss, his lips were parting. Her stomach churned as he kissed her. It was wet and rather sloppy. His tongue pressed her bottom lip signaling he sought entry. She wondered if it would feel sloppy kissing- _

 

The scene was dimming, indicating she was resisting quite well, although not completely able to press him away. Severus nudged into her mind harder, 

 

_      No, she couldn’t imagine he would ever be sloppy. He was always so precise and polished. What if she were to kiss him? Would he ever even let her close enough to try. She felt her heart race beginning to picture it. Raven hair falling from behind his ears, their height difference causing him to bend down so far. Those lips on hers instead- _

 

     A whooshing sound filled his ears as she succeeded in pushing him out. Granger’s cheeks were a dark shade of red, her eyes wide. Severus’s thoughts were streaming almost too fast for his aching head to handle. He wanted to know. But he knew better, to stay in control. 

          “Again.” He murmured. 

     Her face showed her hesitation, but she nodded. Wordlessly, he slipped into her mind. This time it was harder, she had seemingly blank pages as he searched for memories. He sensed it before finding it, but a dark presence caught the corner of his eye. Proceeding cautiously he tried pulling an edge of the shadow from her mind. 

__

_      She woke herself up screaming, and she sat straight up in bed. Sweat dripped down her forehead. She jumped when a knock sounded on the door. Ron peeked his head in, his forehead scrunched in worry.  _

_           "Mione? You alright?” _

_      He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Her hands shook, and she calculated how many steps it would take her to get to the door. But this was Ron. It was not that man.  _

_      The mattress sagged as Ron sat down next to her.  _

_           “Want to talk about it?” _

 

     Pieces began to click in Severus’s mind. Pieces he didn't want to know, but had too. The scene was dissolving, she was fighting him now, stronger than even he realized. A shadow began to swirl in front of him, and he pressed into it.

 

_           “Please stop.” She whimpered, but it came out so faint.  _

_      His fingers were still roaming up the inside of her legs as he kept her tightly pinned onto the floor. Her forearm burned where Bellatrix had cut her. She hardly had any fight left. Now she just wanted to die. _

 

     A crash pulled Severus completely from her mind. Granger had crumpled in her chair, and fallen hard on the wooden floor. On his feet immediately, he crouched over her and reached out to touch her shoulder. White light flooded his vision. 

 

_      His hands stilled around his coffee mug as hands wrapped around his waist, hugging him from behind. Knowing that she couldn’t see his face, the corners of his mouth turned up momentarily before he composed himself.  _

_           “Miss. Granger.” He said sternly.  _

_           “Severus.” She replied pressing her face to his back.  _

_      Severus smiled briefly again at the sound of his name on her lips, before removing her hands and turning around. His heart leapt to his throat as he looked down. She had that damned green dress on again. It reminded him of the first time. He cleared his throat.  _

_           “I thought we reached an agreement?”  _

_      Hermione grinned wickedly.  _

_           “I was just saying good morning. Can’t friends give good morning hugs?” _

_      He sighed deeply and lifted an eyebrow. Her hazel eyes flickered to something above his right shoulder, grin disappearing immediately.  _

_      BOOM  _

_      Severus felt himself fly forward, instinctually throwing out his arms to grab the girl. They fell together, his magic cushioning the floor as he pinned her safely underneath him. Dust and debri burned his lungs, but he grabbed her arm scrambling to their feet, wands at the ready. Anger flooded through him, he knew instantly they had been found. They were as good a sitting ducks.  _

_      Hexes began bouncing everywhere, and through the dust he could make out several figures entering into the newly blown hole in the kitchen wall. Returning fire, he advanced towards them.  _

_            “Severus!” A scream ripped through the chaos and explosions.  _

_      Throwing up his most powerful shield charm, it blasted the intruders back buying him a few seconds. Widely looking around, his heart nearly stilled in his chest. Hermione was only ten or so feet away slumped against the wall unconscious. Blood was steaming from a wound near her ribs, pooling around her.  _

_           “No!” He roared. _

_      Sprinting to her, he fell to his knees frantically. She had a large gash across her ribs. He gathered her close in his arms, pressing a palm hard along her wound. Panic overwhelmed him. He couldn’t lose her, he had to keep her safe. Focusing as hard as he could, he pictured the hotel in London. Behind him, Bellatrix cackled.  _

_           “Avada-”  _

_      CRACK  _

     Severus’s hands pressed wildly, trying to stop the blood. That wasn’t there. He blinked and stared down to the girl in his arms. Somehow, he was kneeling on the kitchen floor with one hand wrapped around Granger while his other palm pressed along her rib cage. They were both breathing heavily. She blinked up at him. He watched as her lips parted slightly. For a split second, his head began to lower. Then the reality of their position and what he was doing registered in his brain. 

     Releasing her, he scrambled backwards like an animal as fast as he could till he bumped into a kitchen chair. 

          “What in the fucking hell just happened?” He snarled. 


	19. Chapter Nineteen: The First Dream

**Chapter Nineteen: The First Dream**

     Hermione pushed herself up into a sitting position. Her stomach was churning along with her head, and she felt like she was going to be sick. She focused on the tiny details in the grain of the floorboard in front of her, trying to settle her stomach. 

     With the world seemed to be spinning, she glanced up  as best she could. Snape was still glaring at her from a few feet away. She had never seen him move so fast when the dream pulled away and she came too with his arms wrapped crushingly around her. Although she could have been imagining it, she thought she saw a look in his eyes for a split second and that his head bobbed down. 

           “Granger, explain now!” He bellowed. 

           “Sir, I’m not sure even how, or what is happening.”

     His face was starting to get red, as he stood brushing off the dusk from his robes. 

           “What memory was that, or sick fantasy?” 

          “It wasn’t either!” Her voice raised, “I have never seen that one before!” 

     Hermione’s head throbbed harder, and she rubbed her temples. Odd lights were flashing behind her eyes. A small groan bubbled from her. 

          “Can you stand?” His voice sounded like he was speaking through a tunnel. 

     She felt her stomach convulse, vision dimming. 

          “Granger!” 

~

     Her fuzzy mind registered a soft surface was below her. Hermione pried open her eyes. She was on the couch now in the sitting room. Blinking a few times, she attempted to turn her head, groaning at the throbbing feeling along her temples. Footsteps sounded down the hall, and Snape rounded the corner, his hands full of potions of various sizes and colors. 

          “Good, your awake. I was coming with smelling salts.” 

     He released the bottles and they floated to the table beside the loveseat, shifting to line up in an organized manner. Hermione raised her head to study them, recognizing one. 

          “Why have you brought Veritaserum?” She looked up at him in surprise. 

     Snape’s cheeks flushed ever so slightly, but his face remained void of any other emotion. His dark eyes stared her down, and replied calmly. 

          “There are questions that need to be answered.”

          “And you do not think I will be truthful?”

     When he didn’t answer she sat up fully, bringing her chin up to remain in eye contact. 

          “You don’t trust me?” Her voice raised. 

     Snape stared down at her for what felt like a very long moment. Long enough for her to study the intricate colors of his irises. They were not all pure black, but had mixes of the darkest browns. 

          “I trust you.” The words escaped her lips the moment the thought formed within her mind. 

          “It has never served me well to trust, Miss. Granger. I am not sure it is in my nature nor habit.” 

     His voice was low, and his words unleashed more emotions that she was trying so hard to keep under wraps. As best as she could with her throbbing head, she shifted so she was on the edge of the cushion and reached out for his hand. He stiffened under her touch, but did not pull away. Hermione squeezed his fingers. 

          “I swear on my magic I will never lie to you.” 

     She felt the buzz of her magic respond to her words. Snape stared at her a few moments more, before pulling away his hand.

          “Very well.” He began to sit, and an arm chair appeared instantly to support him. With a snap of his fingers he conjured a small glass of water handing it to her. Hermione hid a smile at his kindness, satisfied with this small step. That and just a tiny bit impressed by his wandless magic. She reached out and accepted the glass. 

          “We’ve talked of these dreams before. When did they begin?”

     Hermione sipped the water slowly. 

          “I have not been able to exactly pinpoint the date they began. It was sometime towards the tail end of the war.”

          “You said before some of these dreams, visions, have come true?”

          “Not all of them.”

          “Which ones have?”

     She thought back as far as her mind would allow her to the summer. 

          “Around three so far have come true. But not every detail was accurate.” 

     Snape sat back in the chair, bringing a hand to his chin. With a second wave of his fingers a small leather bound journal and quill appeared in his hands. 

          “Explain each in detail.”

     The darkness clawed at the back of her neck but Hermione tried to remain brave. The dreams from the summer were much easier, so she started there. 

          “Right after the war,  I dreamed that Kingsley came to visit at the Burrow. It was the first time that I had seen him since the last battle, and he came to tell,” 

     She trailed off as a connection began to solidify itself in her mind. Every dream had something more in common than she had realized. Well more someone in common. 

          “Came to tell you what?” Snape interrupted her thoughts. 

     Hermione brought her bottom lip in between her teeth,

          “Came to tell me that you had survived and would fully recover.”

     Snape brought his hand to his chin. The quill began moving on its own accord, flying across the small pages of the journal. 

          “In the dream Kingsley and I sat in the garden and he told me that you would recover. Then two days later, it happened. Although he was wearing different robes than I remember from the dream.” 

     The water glass in her hand refilled, and she stalled another moment with a drink, realizing she promised honesty. The next memories were not so easy to discuss. She filled her lungs with an unsteady breath and sent the glass floating to the table next to the loveseat. Nerves filled her, as she realized she had never revealed to anyone the details of this dream. 

          “The most accurate dream was after the night at the Malfoy Manor. The night Bellatrix murdered Dobby.”

     Her throat constricted, absentmindedly rubbing the scar on her forearm. Snape thankfully remained quiet, waiting patiently. She struggled for the words, but pushed on. 

          “It was rather surreal, and very vivid. One of those dreams where you wake up and you’re lost of where reality is. But in the dream I was in the Room of Requirements, and a feeling of complete panic washed over me. All I could think or do was run. To get to a destination. Then, the view changed. I was no longer myself but was there in some kind of form, watching. I recognized where I was, the Shrieking Shack. And all I could do was watch.”

     Tears began to form in her eyes, quieting her momentarily. Snape shifted in his seat in front of her. Looking down, she brushed the tears away from her cheeks and back to her lap. Searching deep she dug in her Gryffindor bravery to continue. Hermione lifted her eyes back to his. 

          “It was the most accurate dream of them all. Every word, every detail was accurate of the night Voldemort tried to kill you.”

     Snape leaned back once again in his chair, a hand coming to rub his chin. The scratches of his quill flying furiously over the page in his journal, the only indication of his reaction. After some time he finally spoke, holding her gaze intensely. 

          “How did the dream end?” 

     She had anticipated these questions, but her mouth still went dry.

          “You died.” She whispered, knotting her fingers together in her lap.


	20. Chapter Twenty: A Change

**Chapter Twenty: A Change**

     Snape shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. In truth, he had no idea what to begin to think with this new information. Other than it was not invoking the feelings he expected whatsoever. That and a barrage of further questions. A soft whisper in the back of his mind that was the most concerning was that this was not unexpected. It just seemed so consistent with the stubborn young woman who sat before him. 

     Then the darkness, as it always did, overtook all thoughts. He had meant to die that day. In fact he welcomed it. All his sickening feelings swirled inside, tightening his chest. 

          “Sir?” 

     Her voice trembled. The sound startled his darkening mind. Severus opened his eyes. Granger was visabling shaking now. He should be pleased with her fear, fear was controlling. Fear was something he was good at. But the questions pressed heavily on his tongue. One in particular. 

     Severus fixed his eyes onto her, studying, analyzing every microexpression. 

          “You planned to interfere? Why?”

     Her eyes studied the planks of the floorboards, shifting between the ones between her feet and his. Her fingers knotted together twisting one way. Then releasing. Then twisting again. Her mouth opened, and the tip of her tongue darted out to moisten her bottom lip. Her chest lifted with a ragged breath.

          “I couldn’t let you die.” A slow cascade of tears slid down her cheek. 

     The darkness clouded his mind. Flashes of red eyes nearly choked him. Severus sucked in a breath. 

          “Why not?” His words came out strangled. 

     It was only then did she meet his eyes. Granger lifted her chin, the soft angles of her cheekbones stilling him. 

          “I just couldn’t let you die.” She repeated, and stood up.

     He noticed her hands shaking. Granger stepped towards him. 

          “I’ve known you since I was eleven. You’ve been a constant influence in my life. My toughest teacher. Sometimes feared, most of the time cruel. But I’ve always respected you.”

     Severus watched meticulously as her shoulders rose then fell as she paused for a breath. Granger took another step towards him nearly at his side where he sat. So close he could see every curve, and angle of her. He could even smell her. She smelled faintly of peppermint and lavender. 

          “I can’t explain it, I just felt it. I. The world still needed you. Needs you.” Her voice was barely a whisper and she tripped over her words. 

          A petite hand rose towards him, and he could only watch paralyzed to the spot. The hand cupped the curve of his cheek. The feeling was forigine, alien. Her hand was soft and warm, much like the rich hazelnut color of irises buring into his. 

     A soft thump interrupted the heavy silence of the room as his journal and quill fell from the hold of his magic. 

     What was he doing? This was too close. Too intense. Too impossible for a man like him. Severus was on his feet instantly, distancing himself from that small hand, that smell, that dress. From her. 

     He didn’t stop until he was at the front door. Safety be damned, he had to leave. The reminder of the warmth from her palm on his cheek burned his skin. His wand released from his sleeve and he began cloaking himself with every spell he knew. The wards flared in warning but he kept his flee, stepping out onto the crumbling porch. As the doors closed behind him, he turned his wand shooting sparks mixed with the complicated protections he was placing on the house. It would be impenetrable until he returned. As soon as he was done, he apparated with a soft pop. 

 

~

     Hermione spent most of the day in bed, alternating between crying and staring into the ceiling feeling utterly foolish. Reflecting back she wondered if she should have even told him anything at all. Maybe she should have even lied to him. Avoid conflict, keep her head low until they could find a way to restore safety. 

     This line of thinking is what then brought the tears, because it was all in vain. No matter how much she wished she could harden her emotions, when it came to Severus Snape she found she could not. Hermione had not been able to physically restrain herself from touching him. Even now hours later, her hand still tingled as a reminder of the feeling of his smooth skin under her palm. 

     Somewhere in the house the clock in the sitting room began chiming the hour. She held her breath and counted. 

_           Ting. Ting.  _

     It rang eight more times. Hermione sat up. It was already ten and the Headmaster had not returned. Surely he would be alright. She had complete faith in his ability to take care of himself. What she was more worried about was the possibility of him abandoning her. Would he ever just leave her here? 

     She felt a betrayal in her gut just thinking it. He may have never been exactly kind to his students, but he always seemed to have a sense of responsibility towards them. Then again, she was no longer his student. 

     Sighing, she laid back down, snuggling into her pillow. The tears were threatening to come once more. Although her mind whirled, she felt her eyes grow heavy. Closing them, she let herself drift off. 

_           She padded into the bathroom, rubbing sleep from her eyes. As much as she tried to avoid the mirror, her reflection still caught her attention. She looked like hell. Eyes bloodshot and puffy from crying. The beautiful green dress was severely wrinkled. Splashing water on her face, she padded into the empty kitchen. Food was running short. She would have to leave soon. Gripping her wand she flicked the water kettle on. Coming to stand in front of the coffee press, she glanced out the small grimy window.  _

_      Her heart nearly stilled.  _

_           BOOM _

_      Hermione was thrown backwards by the force of the blast, debri of the destroyed kitchen wall falling everywhere around her. Disoriented, she tried to sit up on her forearms, frantically searching for her wand. It had flown from her hand in the blast.  _

_      Footsteps crunched on wood. A high pitched, cold laugh reverberated through her rattled brain.  _

_           “Look what we found here? A filthy little Mudblood. Where’s your precious Headmaster, little Mudblood?” _

_      Bellatrix Lestrange kicked her barefoot, staring down at her with a horrid smile. Hermione knew she should fight, she had to get out. But she was so very tired.  _

_           “He’s gone.” Her voice was hoarse after so long without usage.  _

_      The madwoman tilted her head, black curls widely.  _

_           “Gone? You mean he left his precious Gryffindor Princess all alone?” _

_      Hermione closed her eyes. More footsteps surrounded her.  _

_           “He’s not here.” A man’s voice spoke to Bellatrix.  _

_           “Well, I suppose we can have a little fun then!”  _

_      Opening her eyes, Bellatrix raised her wand high above her head, smiling revealing all of her rotten teeth. Hermione screamed as white hot pain sliced through her ribcage.  _

 

     Hermione awoke suddenly, sweat and tears mixed on her cheeks. She struggled to breath, raggedly sucking in breath, heart racing from the nightmare. It was eerily similar to the the dream or vision from the morning. It made her shiver thinking about it. Blinking into the dark, she sat up slowly.

     Noise sounded somewhere within the house, and Hermione froze. Listening hard, the sound of a door closing raised the hair on the back of her neck. Quiet footsteps began sounding down the hall. Her heart raced, but she held her wand tightly between her fingers and crept out of bed. The footsteps were closer. Pressing an ear to the door, she listened intently as the sound passed right in front of her door. Then continued. 

     Could it be the Headmaster? With a flick of her wand, she cracked the door open silently a few inches. The tall darkly clothed shoulders were unmistakably belonging to Severus Snape. Hermione felt her shoulders sag in relief and watched as he opened then disappeared behind his bedroom door.  He had not abandoned her. 

     Closing her bedroom door again, she bit her lip pondering what in the world she was going to do now. She longed to talk to him, ask him where he had been, why had he left, had he considered not returning. But maybe he needed space. Hermione walked back to her bed, sitting down and smoothing her dress. The house returned to silence, and it was driving her mad. Sleep was certainly not an option any longer after her nightmare. Shaking her head slightly, she tried to remove the dark images that were clawing at the back of her mind. Absentmindedly she placed her hand along her ribs.

     Glancing at the portraits on the dresser, she noticed the tiny teenage Snape waving his hand at her. She summoned the picture to her. A little rattled by the movement, teenage Snape placed his hands on his knees, his shoulders moving up and down with deep breaths before he stood back up again. She watched closely as he scowled up at her, then pointed over towards the corner of the picture.  

          “What? I don’t understand.” She whispered. 

     Teenage Snape only pointed more forcefully. Hermione turned her head to the direction he was pointing. It was towards the door. Could he be telling her something? Hermione bit her lip again. 

          “You want me to talk to him?” She finally asked, still in a hushed tone. 

     The tiny teenage Snape nodded frantically. 

          “I think he need space.” 

     This time, the tiny dark head of hair flung all around his face as he shook his head no. Her eyes looked to the door once again. What would she even say? Movement in her peripheral vision brought her gaze back to the portrait. 

     Tiny teenage Snape was waving again. He pointed at her, then the door. Then mimed like he was kicking someone out of the door, his foot swinging wildly. 

          “Okay.” She breathed and carefully stood to return tiny Snape to the dresser. 

     He smiled at her when she set the picture down, and the sight stirred up the butterflies in her stomach. 

     Creeping towards the door, her heart thundered. Carefully opening the door, she closed it behind her soundlessly. The hallway was pitch dark, so she lit her wand dimly to guide her. Walking on tiptoes, she reached his door. Frozen to the spot she considered going back. But she had already made it this far. Her knuckles rapped on the wood softly. 

     At first there was no sounds of any movement. Then footsteps. Hermione thought her heart was going to jump right out of her throat. The door opened and her lips parted slightly as she took in the sight of him. 

     His heavy teaching robes were shed, and he wore a dark button up shirt. One sleeve was rolled up revealing a pale and surprisingly muscular forearm. But it was the undone top four buttons that revealed a view of his pale chest, that made her mouth dry. Snape stared at her, looking slightly surprised at her presence at his bedroom door. Realizing she was still staring at him open mouthed, Hermione cleared her throat. 

          “Um. I’m sorry to bother you. I just. I thought.” Her through felt like a noose tightening. 

     She tried clearing it again, feeling foolish. Her cheeks burned crimson and the vision of her nightmares continually raced through her mind. 

          “I’m sorry. I just thought you weren’t coming back. And I had another nightmare. And,”

     Snape opened the door wider, and stepped back. 

          “Come in.” His offered quietly, still staring at her. 

     Her lips formed a small o, before she recovered and nodded slightly. She stepped inside the dimly lit room, looking around. 

     It was clearly the master bedroom of the house, being quite a bit larger than her room. Although the room more than likely looked much bigger because it was also scarcely furnished. There was a large armoire with intricate carvings against one wall, but the king size bed was the largest piece within the room. At the foot of the bed was a small loveseat. Hermione was mesmerized by the rumpled emerald green fabric of the comforter on the unmade bed. 

     The sound of the door closing interrupted her thoughts. Snape slid his hands into his pockets. 

           “You don’t make your bed?” As soon as the question escaped, Hermione blushed even harder. 

     Snape’s eyes finally left her, sliding over to the same spot of her focus. 

           “I did most of my life. My mother insisted. But I suppose as of late, I haven’t quite seen the reasoning behind it.” 

     Hermione’s lips twitched up at the corners, and she nodded. Silence loomed between them. She continued to look around, wondering where he had been or why he had left. She considered asking him, but couldn’t muster up the words to leave her mouth. 

          “Would you like to sit?” Snape murmured, almost hesitantly. 

     He gestured towards the small loveseat, and stepped towards it. Following behind him, they sat, once again wordlessly for a few moments.  

          “I’m sorry-” 

          "I apologize-”

     The words both left the mouth at identical times, causing them both to freeze for another moment in embarrassment. 

     Hermione rubbed the soft fabric of the love seat and stared at her shoes. 

          “Whatever do you have to be sorry about Professor?” She asked quietly. 

          Beside her Snape threaded his fingers together in his lap. She admired the long fine fingers, from his knuckles to his shapely nail beds. His fingers looked like a pianist's dream. Minus the calluses from years of brewing. She heard him inhale next to her. 

          “It was, well, extremely immature as well as dangerous for me to leave this morning. I realized I could have put your life in jeopardy. I am sorry for my careless behavior.” 

     Hermione glanced at him under her lashes. He too had his head down, his dark hair falling into his eyes. Her heart ached with the gift of his vulnerability, so much so she couldn’t stop herself from reaching out and squeezing his hands. Surprisingly, he didn’t retract away from her. 

          “You don’t have to apologize.” Hermione whispered. 

     Snape nodded, and she removed her hand, not wanting to push him any further. The room seemed colder suddenly. She shivered. 

          “Tell me of your nightmare.” Snape pressed gently. 

     The visions returned, clouding her mind momentarily. 

          “It was very similar to this mornings dream. But different.”

          “Different how?” He leaned back against the frame of the loveseat and crossed an ankle on top of his kneecap. 

     Breathing was getting more difficult as the memory of the pain sent her hand to her ribcage. Hermione shook her head slightly, unable to speak. 

          “Can you show me?” 

     She turned to look at him, his obsidian eyes focused. His face calmed her, and she remembered her words from earlier. She trusted him, always. Hermione nodded her head once. 

     Snape continued to hold her gaze intently, but she hardly felt his presence in her mind. He seemed to be trying to be gentle, the shadow barely noticeable. Her shoulders relaxed, and lungs seemed to open up more. Breathing in, and out slowly. 

     The memory entered slowly at first, then it was all she could see. 

_           She passed by the mirror once more, staring at her ghostly face. She finally looked as broken as she felt. He was gone, and not coming back.  _

_           BOOM _

_          Pain as the blast knocked her back. Horrid laughter echoed off every wall. Just let me die, she thought. Just let me die here.  _

_          She turned her head, temples growing sticky with the wet blood pooling all around her. Hermione wanted nothing more than to die. _

 

          “Granger”

     The soft voice in her ear yanked her back to the present. Hermione brought her hands to her face, trying to conceal the tears that had escaped. Her whole body was trembling, and she brought her knees up to her trying to curl in a ball. She knew she was on the edge of panic. 

     A hand tentatively touched her back, a thumb rubbing featherlight. A sliver of tension released from her shoulders as the thumb traced a back and forth motion through her thin fabric of her dress. 

     Hermione released her hands from her face and looked over to the man sitting next to her. The Headmaster’s hand paused it’s motion, and for a split second he looked like a startled stag in headlights. Snape quickly controlled his expression back to it’s usual indifference and removed his hand. 

      On impulse she let herself lean over and rest against his side with her face buried into his shoulder. He stiffened alarmed, but not daring to back out now she snaked her arms around his neck in a fierce hug. Hermione held her breath as one arm slowly wrapped around her back. 

     She sighed into the contact, her tears had ceased. Her hands dropped to his chest. They were still for a while, and Hermione’s heart began racing through her chest. The senses in her fingertips heightened to the hard flesh just underneath the cool layer of his button down shirt, and she could feel his heartbeat. Her mind was betraying her again, with thought, ideas. She should shove them back behind her walls where they belong, but with such proximity she wasn’t strong enough to do so.

     Hermione pulled her head back to look at him. Snape’s eyes were darker than she had ever seen, his irises almost matching his pupils which were quickly dilating with her eye contact. The intensity of their stare radiated magic throughout the room, Hermione could hear it’s hum and feel it’s tingle within her stomach. Snape could feel it too and her insides did a flop as his lips parted slightly.  

     She leaned in ever so slightly, and he raised an eyebrow. Hermione could practically hear his thoughts of panic. She was losing him. Without hesitation she leaned and pressed her lips against his firmly. Snape jolted at the contact and pulled back completely out of her embrace. 

     Hermione sat frozen to the spot mortified, expecting him to yell, or throw her out. But he had stilled once more and remained silent, searching her face with sharply intelligent eyes. She felt like crying again. 

          “I’m, I’m sorry. So sorry. Sev- sir.” She whispered and lowered her eyes to the floor. 

     A calloused hand cupped her cheek bringing her gaze back to him. 

          “Say it.” He demanded, his voice silky. His eyes turned dark and dangerous. 

     She swallowed nervously. 

          “Say what?” 

          “My name.” His breath brushed her cheeks they were so close. 

     Hermione took a deep breath, 

          “Sever-”

     He cut her off, pressing his lips to hers this time. The sensation electrified every nerve inside of her, and she returned the kiss fervorously. It was a mixture of soft and a hardness. Hands tangled in her hair, while her own wrapped around his neck once again. 

     The magic hummed louder around them drowning out all else. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phewwwww.... Okay that took me much longer to write than I thought, but I hope the end of this chapter makes up for it... ;)


	21. Chapter Twenty One: Visiting the Past

**Chapter Twenty- One: Visiting the Past**

     Severus gave himself twenty seconds to indulge in the moment. Then he would break it off. He would explain how this could never happen again, could never continue. He would tell her it’s inappropriate. Hell, he could tell her things he had done in his past that would make her never want to speak to him again. 

     Then the tip of her tongue tentatively brushed past his lower lip, and his hands involuntarily tightened within her wild curls. His mouth opened, letting in her exploring tongue. It tangled with his own in a sensual dance. He struggled to suck in breath, and was certain his heart was going to fail him with how quickly it pounded in his chest. Every cell in his body felt electrified with the feeling and the taste of her. Severus could feel their magic tickling his skin. 

     But he had to come back to reality, he had to protect her. Even if that mean protecting her from himself. 

     Losing the hold within her hair, he gently began pulling back. His fingers smoothed the golden brown curls behind her ears. Their lips pulled apart, foreheads still touching, ragged breath swirling around them. He willed his mouth to move, to say what needed to be said. 

          “Hermione,” Her name felt like a delicacy in his mouth, “We cannot-”

          “Please.”

     Her eyes were still closed, her voice sounded like she was on the brink of exhaustion. The girl’s heavy eyelids fluttered and she leaned in to rest her head on his shoulder. Her body was soft and warm against his own, and he let his arms wrap around her. He was sure she had fallen asleep. Listening to her breath, soft and steady, quieted his inner thoughts. 

     Severus wasn’t sure how long they had been there, when a bright light flew into the room. It startled him, but he was careful not to wake the sleeping woman on his shoulder. The silvery white light grew brighter and took shape of a cat. The soft voice of Professor McGonagall spoke through the shimmering form. 

          “Will arrive in 10 minutes.”

     The cat disappeared shortly after the message, and Severus sighed. He had deduced that leaving earlier must have triggered the wards, and it was only a matter of time before McGonagall and the Minister were alerted. 

     Pulling his head back, he glanced over at his bed before back at the sleeping Hermione. The peacefulness and simple beauty of her face stirred up his heartbeat again. Scooting himself to the edge of the loveseat, he began lifting her as gently as possible. She hardly stirred. Muttering slightly, magic moved the crumpled pile of comforter of his bed so he could settle her in a more comfortable place while he spoke with McGonagall. Minding her head, he lowered her onto the soft mattress and tucked her in. 

     Giving into a moment of weakness, Severus leaned into kiss her forehead before starting towards the door. He would have to figure this new development out later. McGonagall would have questions no doubt, if not a thorough word lashing. Pushing away all feelings of the sight of Granger in his bed, his face returned to his cold mask. The door closed softly behind him, and he placed a palm on the rough wood casting charms to seal his secret inside. A soft pop sounded in the kitchen, signaling the arrival of his guest. Severus hurried into the room. 

     McGonagall was smoothing her coat and looked up sternly at him over her glasses. 

          “Care to explain why your wards were lifted for several hours today Severus?” 

     He frowned, hardly in the mood for lectures. Sighing he ignored her question, 

          “Tea, Minerva?”

     Turning from her he began filling the kettle and setting the stove. He heard a chair scrape behind him, presumably as she sat down. 

          “Seeing that I have known her intelligence capabilities since she was eleven, I assume Miss. Granger, even so young, would not be so stupid to try to risk her safety as well as your own to leave. So it must have been you.” 

     At the reminder of her age, Severus felt his shoulders tense but he continued moving collecting tea cups. After there was a heavy continued silence, he realized the matriarch expected a response. 

          “It was me.”

     The kettle began whistling and he pulled it off quickly, thinking of the sleeping woman down the hall. Realizing he could no longer stall, he removed his wand from his sleeve and flicked it once. The tea finished preparing itself, and flew over to the table where McGonagall was waiting with a stern look. He pushed back all thoughts of Granger behind his well guarded mind and sat opposite of his guest. 

          “I suppose you are waiting on an explanation?” He quipped, meeting her eyes bravely. 

          “That might be an excellent start.” She snorted, and crossed her arms. 

          “I have already regretted my actions, but I let my anger get the best of me and left.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. 

      The witch's eyes narrowed even further with his less than detailed account. Her chest rose and fell heavily as she took in a sharp breath. He felt momentarily as if he was once again a student testing her patience. 

          “Why were you angry?” She leaned forward to collect two sugar cubes and drop them in her tea. 

          “I’m always angry.” The quip turned the corner of his cheek up, but he squashed it almost instantly. 

     But not fast enough for McGonagall not to notice. This time she leaned back into her chair, her eyes scanning his face calculating. Severus took a long sip of his tea for something else to look at. It scalded his mouth And blinded him with the image of a petite rosy lips and hot exploring tongue. Shit. He closed his eyes and regained control. Setting the tea cup down, he settled to give in to what the matriarch expected. 

        “Minerva, I apologize. I let my anger get the best of me, as I most often times do. I understand the safety risks that I have put all parties into. But as much as I regret leaving, I do not regret what I did during that time.”

     Her face softened a bit, a good sign. 

          “And what is it that you did?”

     The words were a struggle to find. He had not expected to tell anyone. But ever since he was a boy Minevera had a way to coax more out of him then he ever meant to. There were several major times in his life where he had confided in her. It seems like tonight would be another. 

          “I went to visit my mother.” 

     The silence fell heavy around them as McGonagall processed his words. Then her hand slid across the table to rest on top of his. Severus started at it. Under usual circumstances, he would have snatched his own hand back feeling uncomfortable with the gesture. But no such feelings arose. He settled to leave it there. 

          “Severus, is she still?” Minerva’s soft voice broke off, unable to finish her sentence. 

     He sighed, realizing what was coming. The secrets he had kept for much too long. 

          “No.” He brought his other hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “She is dead. I buried her on the outskirts of the Prince property.” 

     She squeezed his hand beneath hers. Somehow the gesture forced his words to continue. 

          “I had not wanted to even return to this wretched place that summer.” He looked around the kitchen, seeing clearly the ghosts that haunted his dreams. 

          “But she had Owled, something she rarely did unless things were really bad. I was stupid and angry. It was the summer before I began teaching, and I was arrogant as ever about the job position. I had planned on throwing it in his face. But when I arrived and told him the news, he simply sat at this very table and sneered at me. I wasn’t a man, he said. I was a freak.”

     Severus paused trying to regain control to finish the story. 

          “That night, I heard them argue. I tried to ignore it, brush it off. I would be gone by the morning anyway. I heard the bangs. I heard the small whimpering sounds. But I ignored them.” His throat tightened. 

          “It was finally the sound of my name, she called my name. I went into the kitchen, and he had his hands around her throat. I snapped. I had used the unforgivables before, but never had I meant them like that. I couldn’t stop until there was hardly anything left of him.” 

     He paused for a few moments, staring down at the floor of the kitchen, remembering. 

          “She was still lying there when I finally realized what I had done. I tried everything to bring her back. But she was gone.” 

     He realized his cheeks were wet. McGonagall squeezed his hand once again. 

          “Oh, Severus.” She murmured. 

          “I buried her as close to the Prince cemetery as I could. I have not been to see her grave since then.” 

     She hummed slightly, “Why now?” 

     In truth he was not sure exactly his reasons behind visiting his mother's grave. He had just needed a place to go. A place where he could confront and feel everything that had raged inside him. His mind still whirled until an answer came to the tip of his tongue. 

          “I suppose because I wanted to apologize for not being able to join her.”

          “No, you-”

     He interrupted her, cutting off her worrying. 

          “I no longer wish to die, Minerva. But once I did. And I thought of her that night, wishing I could go visit her grave one last time.”

     A small creak sounded behind him, and the back of his neck prickled. Odd. If Granger had left the room his charms would have alerted him. He remained focused on the witch in front of him, looking for any signs that she heard it as well. McGonagall only brought a second wrinkled hand to hold his own in both of hers. Severus kept his ears trained for any further noises and straightened up in his seat. He felt rather uncomfortable, realizing all he had shared. And even more so realizing tears had escaped. 

     He pulled his hand from her grasp, as gently as he could and quickly wiped all traces of moisture off his face. He willed his voice to be indifferent. 

          “As for tonight. Miss. Granger rekindled some painful memories of the night of my unsucessful murder and I became quite angry. In my state that was the only option I could set my mind upon. I apologize and understand what I have risked. I will not put the girl in danger again.” 

     Another creak. A small change in draft in the house. He had a feeling as if someone was hidden in the hallway. 

     Minerva's wand began to glow, the light peeking out of her sleeve. 

          “That’s the signal for 2 minutes until my Portkey leaves.” She pulled out a small sewing pin that was hidden in her robes. 

     They both stood, Severus at a total loss of what to say. McGonagall stepped around the chairs, invading his space. She locked two iron arms around him, in a fierce hug. He bristled against her touch momentarily, then slowly brought his arms up to return the gesture for a few seconds. As much as he hated it, he felt a slight bit of comfort from her. Finally she let go, but not before leaning in and pecking him on the cheek. 

          “I came here to give you an earful, but have found myself with nothing to say on the matter. Please just be careful Severus. We are doing all we can to finish this so you and Hermione can come home. So you can find peace.” 

     Severus just nodded. The witch’s wand glowed more brightly, signaling it was nearly time. 

          “And as far as Miss. Granger goes, try to get along. She’s the only witch I’ve encountered that might possibly match your intelligence. And your stubbornness.”

     He felt himself blanch right as the Portkey swirled McGonagall out of sight with a small pop. What in the world had she meant by that? 

     Severus sensed movement behind him once again, and stilled. There was only one way to prove his suspicions now. 

          “Are you going to quit lurking in the shadows or am I going to have to force you out?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO MUCH ANGST!! On another note, I know I suck at updating. But please be a nice human and bear with me. I'm trying me best! :)


	22. Chapter Twenty Two: An Escape

**Chapter Twenty Two: An Escape**

     Hermione’s heart thundered in fear as Snape’s cold voice spoke from the kitchen.

          “Are you going to quit lurking in the shadows or am I going to have to force you out?” 

     She was already back at his bedroom door, now charming it shut silently behind her. Crawling back into the emerald comforter and felt like a child who was almost caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Although she was sure no child had never heard such a heart wrenching story. She would have to process her emotions later. She knew he would be furious if he knew she heard, so she forced all emotions and memories back behind the tentative walls of her mind. If he really wanted to he would easily break them, but she hadn’t planned on letting him get that far. 

     Laying on the pillow she sent a silent prayer of thanks for those many hours faking sleep to eavesdrop on her parents, her room mates or Harry and Ron. Information kept you safe. Most of the time. 

     Hearing footsteps approach, she breathed in deeply. The sheets smelled of sandalwood and she practically drank it in. It comforted her and excited her all at once. Snapes low voice murmured outside the door, and she struggled to relaxed her body completely, snuggling her face into the pillowcase. 

     Hermione could feel him, even with her eyes closed. She could feel his intelligent eyes, most likely assessing if she was really asleep. Feel the air move as he silently padded towards the bathroom, the door closing softly. Not daring to even sneak a peek, she continued her rhythmic breathing, listening carefully. 

     The shower turned on, old pipes creaking in protest. The sound of the curtain dragging open, then closed a few moments later. Her face grew hot as she realized Severus was only a room away, showering. Meaning he was most likely without clothes. 

     A soft masciline moan escaped from under the door making her whole body flush. It sounded like a noise she would make after a long day, letting the hot water pour over her tense shoulders. Her heart ached for him then, now knowing and understanding far more about his experience. Hermione felt momentarily guilty for her overheard conversation, but it also made her feelings so much stronger.

     As she lay there, everything became overwhelmingly sensual, being in her former professors room, being in his bed, his scent surrounding her. Although she could no longer think of him as her professor. No, she was thinking of him in a very different way. 

     Heat continued to spread throughout her body, as she replayed the feeling of his lips on hers. Her mind briefly fluttering to a thought rather like dejavu. She pushed the thought aside for now.

     She shifted her hips, struggling to maintain a relaxed state. Hermione pictured herself a braver woman, brave enough to crawl out of bed and open that bathroom door. She pictured herself stripping off her beloved emerald green dress, stepping into the shower steam. Placing a hand on the wiry muscles of his back. Severus turning around, the small hungry smile on his lips that she remembered from one of her dreams. He wrapped his arms around her bare waist, dark eyes drinking in the sight of her nakedness. 

     The shower cut off and Hermione snapped her eyes open. Now she was overly aware of her skin felt ablaze, a pressure had built low in her stomach. She glanced at the soft glow illuminated under the doorframe, before turning back into the pillow and sealing her eyes shut. 

     The door creaked open just as soon as she relaxed breathing to a believable level. Soft padding of feet circled the room, like he was pacing back and forth near the foot of the bed. Hermione felt the air move, followed by a tiny sound that belonged only to magic. Silence followed and she counted her exhales. 

     When she reached two hundred and sixteen, as feather soft sore came from the foot of the bed. Hidden by the darkness of the room, Hermione slowly opened her eyes.  Blinking into the darkness, she waited for her eyes to adjust. In the darkness she could make out the love seat at the foot of the bed, except it was no longer loveseat size. It had been elongated to accompany  the long frame of the now sleeping Severus Snape. 

      Her gaze lingered awestruck at the curve of his shoulders as they rose and fell with his breath. Laying her head back down on her pillow, she smiled to herself. So he did sleep. Not that she ever thought he didn’t. But it somehow added more that she knew him sleeping. 

     Blinking into the darkness her mind wandered over all things Severus. He was a heartbreakingly wonderful enigma of a man. And finally she let herself say the mull over the few words that had been beating within her conscious, as sure as her heartbeat. Hermione was falling in love with Severus Snape. 

     As if the acknowledgement freed her, her lids grew heavy and she drifted off into a dreamless sleep. 

~

     Coffee. Hermione popped one eye open. She smelled fresh and strong coffee. Both eyes open now, she scanned the empty bedroom, breathing in the delicious aromas around her. A mix of the coffee and smells of Severus. Severus de Cafe. It was intoxicating. 

     Pulling the comforter off, her feet met the floor with a bolt of enthusiasm. The door was open only a crack and she pushed past making her way towards the kitchen. 

     She drank in the sight of him standing tall, his back to her, pouring a cup of fresh coffee. He was dressed in his standard black slacks and long sleeve shirt. Hoping that he had heard her enough not to be startled, she came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him from behind. 

          “Miss. Granger.” He said sternly, his voice rumbling against her cheek. 

          “Severus.” She replied pressing her face further into his back, her smile taking over her face. 

     She felt his body tense under her arms, his head slowly rising to glance up towards the kitchen window. Like he was looking for something. The dream hit her like a punch in the gut. Releasing her arms, she brought her wand directly to her palm and backed away from Severus. 

          “The dream. This is exactly like the dream.” Her voice shook and she scanned the kitchen, looking for any sign of anything out of place. 

     The pain in her dream had been so real, and adrenaline began filling her system. Snape continued scanning the window for a few more seconds, then began backing up, eyes never leaving the window. He reached his arm behind him, grasping her forearm with a gentle force. 

           “Keep your wand ready.” 

     Hermione nodded in agreement. Together they backed up towards the hall, heads moving slightly back and forth as they searched. They waited. Seconds turned into minutes. Hermione could hear the agonizingly slow ticks of the clock. 10 minutes went by, both still on alarm, hardly moving. After 12 minutes Severus finally lowered his wand, careful to keep it tucked tightly in his palm. 

          “It will be safer towards the bedrooms. Less windows.” 

     He glanced at her sideways, then down at his own hand still clasping hers. He pulled it back quickly, looking at it as if he hadn’t realized it was there. 

     Eyes never leaving the end of the hallway towards the kitchen, they walked backwards until arriving at the door to Hermione’s room. Waiting once again, she listened to the clock ticking, although it was much fainter now. Another 5 minutes went by. 

          “Perhaps it’s not coming true?” She whispered, glancing up to Severus’s guarded face. 

     His only response was a slight hum. She relaxed her grip on her wand, switching hands and stretching her fingers before returning it to her dominant hand. 

          “Should we-”

          “Shh!” He cut her off, holding up a hand. 

     She listened hard. A soft glow began pulsing at the end of the hallway. She watched with her breath in her throat. The light grew taking shape of something familiar. 

          “That’s Ron’s Patronus!” 

     The Jack Russell terrier bounded towards them, wiggling excitedly, before sitting on its haunches before them. It raised a silvery paw and spoke,

          “‘Mione, be there in 10 minutes to check in. Been having issues with wards, can you lower them so I can get in? I’ll explain everything when I’m there. Love you babe.” 

     The Patronus dissolved in front of them with a small yipping bark. 

     For a few breaths, neither party moved. Hermione felt the panic and hot guilt rising deep within her gut. Ron was coming. To visit her and the man whose bed she had slept in. Oh Merlin. 

     She glanced at Severus. His eyebrows were pulled together sharply like he was thinking hard. Hermione studied the strong curve of his jaw, as it twitched slightly. She thought of last night, and her feelings. Resolve settled deep within her. 

          “We have to let him in. I want to talk to him.” She said firmly. 

     Severus finally moved, turning his head so quickly, dark hair flied around his shoulders. 

          “I will not lower these wards for anyone. Ridiculous, stupid idea.”

     Hermione frowned, 

          “It’s Ron. We can trust him.”

          “No.” 

     He turned on his heel and strode back towards the kitchen. With a puff of annoyance she chased after him, mentally cursing his long legs. 

          “Severus be-”

     She nearly ran straight into him as he turned violently back to her with a snarl, 

          “If I remember correctly, it is incredibly rude to address your elders by anything other than their title.” 

     Narrowing her eyes, she leaned back on her heels and crossed her arms. 

          “And if I remember correctly, I would say we are on friendly enough terms that I can address you by your name. I’d prefer Hermione from you.” 

     For a split second his face grew dark and she prepared herself for his usual Snape cutthroat response. But then he stepped back from her, closing his eyes. When he opened them again he cleared his throat, standing straighter to his full height over her. 

          “ Miss. Granger. It seems I have another poor behavior to apologize. I apologize for,” A blush crept up his cheeks, “I apologize for my inappropriate behavior. It seems the stress of our situation is clouding my judgment, and I was reaching out to. To comfort I suppose.” 

     Hermione could only stare. He seemed to mistake her silence as encouragement to continue. 

          “I regret. I regret if I have caused you any confusion.” He paused, staring anywhere but her face before bringing his eyes to stare at the floorboards. 

     The words hit her stomach like ice and seemed to echo through her mind. Regret. He regretted their kiss. Hermione stared at the floor as well, taking deep breaths. In for four. Hold for four. Out for four. She had to salvage what she could, before her embarrassment melted her into a puddle on the floor. The minutes were getting closer to Ron’s arrival. She had to keep it together. 

      Looking up she tried her best to steady her voice. 

          “ I understand sir. I apologize as well. I just hope this doesn't affect our friendship.” 

     She forced her smile as best as she could. 

          “Friendship.” He repeated quietly. 

          “Yes, now are you going to lower the wards or shall I?” 

     His face darkened once more. 

          “I will not say this again, the wards will not be lowered.”

     Hermione ignored him, turning away and raised her wand. Glancing at the clock she had around 4 more minutes to lower the wards enough to get Ron here. With a deep breath she began murmuring incantations to let in Ron. 

          “Granger, enough!” Snape grabbed her arm, but she turned on him. 

     Pointing her wand directly to his chest, she growled. 

          “He clearly has something important or he wouldn’t risk coming! You have to trust me.” 

         “Don’t be an idiot Granger, just to see your bloody boyfriend!” 

    Hermione ignored the second sharp pain his words brought, and instead poked his chest with her wand. She was shouting now, emotions getting the best of her. 

          “Either you let him come here or I will leave this house to meet him where who knows what will happen! At least here if anything happens it’s somewhat in my control!”

     She never faltered her eye contact as he scowled at her. The clock ticked behind them, signaling they had less than a minute. Hermione raised her wand again, throwing all her magic to lower the complicated wards briefly. 

     A sharp pop sounded from the sitting room, signaling Ron had gotten in. 

          “‘Mione?” Ron’s voice called from the hall. 

     She quickly replaced the wards, then turned on her heel intending to leave Severus alone with his scowl. But she felt his gaze on her back. 

     Hermione froze in the doorframe of the sitting room, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling. It was Ron, in all his redheaded glory, smiling at her wildly, shaking the dust off his coat. Studying his smile she couldn’t place what felt so strange. Shaking it off, she smiled back as he approached her arms out. 

          “Hey babe, come here.” 

     He stopped a few feet away, glancing towards the kitchen, most likely looking for Severus. Odd, she thought, usually he would come swooping her into his arms. Still she stepped forward into his waiting arms. Bracing for his hard squeeze, she felt another tickle on the back of her neck as he only rubbed his hands up and down her back. His hand rubbed rather low close to her bum, and she pushed back blushing and thinking of if  Severus had seen. 

              “Ron!”

     His grin only widened on his face, and he brought a hand up to the back of her neck. With a sharp tug, he brought her face close and kissed her hard. Hermione’s stomach flipped, this time not bothering to make herself stop from pushing him away. Severus might claim he regretted their kiss, but she sure didn’t and now having Ron here kissing her, she knew she was done. 

           “Ron, stop! Why are you here?” 

     The redhead scowled at her, unusually quick to anger. 

          “Come back here, I want to kiss my girlfriend properly!” 

     His other arm caught her waist roughly. Hermione tried to look at Ron’s pupils, judging if he was drunk. His face lowered trying to find her lips again, but she pulled her face to the side. 

          “Stop!” 

     A woosh of air rushed past her ears, and suddenly all of Ron’s uncomfortable grip was gone. Blinking, she all she could see was red hair flying across the room. He landed against the wall with a thump. Behind her, Snape’s voice could have raised the dead.  

          “I believe she said stop.” 

     Ron’s face contorted into a look of pure rage as he looked up from the floor. It looked so foirgin on his features. 

           “Oh Snape, always had a way of butting in where you clearly aren’t wanted.” 

     Hermione’s feet seemed to have frozen to the floor as she stared at Ron. His words didn’t seem his own. 

           “And you have always had a way of overstaying your welcome Weasley. Tell us what information you have and leave.” Snape fired back. 

     She watched as Ron slowly pulled himself back to his feet, chuckling oddly. His wand was now in his palm. A hand rested on her shoulder, squeezing ever so slightly. The gesture calmed her, and she glanced back to look at Snape. His eyes never left Ron’s as he stood tall, his face looking dangerous. 

          “Get you disgusting hands off my girlfriend and I’ll tell her.” Ron sneered. 

     The hand on her shoulder squeezed once more, somehow helping her regain her voice. 

          “Ronald!” She snapped, “Knock it off.”

     The redhead’s eyes flickered to her briefly. Hermione’s breath caught in her throat. No, she thought. She had to be mistaken. Her palms began to sweat. 

     Ron continued glaring at Severus then glanced down at his watch. She watched as his shoulders rose with a deep breath. 

           “Let talk in the kitchen yeah? I’ve got some updates.” Without a backwards glance he walked past them to the kitchen as if the stand down had never happened. 

     With her heart pounding she immediately turned and followed him. 

          “Granger.” Snape whispered through gritted teeth as her shoulder exited his grip. 

     Ignoring him she stepped into the kitchen, praying with every fiber of her being that she was not right. 

           Ron had stopped in the far corner of the room and was looking at his watch again. She continued towards him, a cold sweat broke out on the back of her neck as she watched him glance towards the window. 

     Right in front of him now, Hermione brought her hand to Ron’s cheek, lifting his eyes to hers. Brown eyes. A gasp released from her lips. 

          BOOM

     Hands flew around her waist and all she could see was black. Dust and debris burned her lungs, as she realized Severus had somehow come out of nowhere, leaping on top of her cushioning the fall.  He grabbed her arm and they scrambled to their feet, wands at the ready. Her thoughts screaming deja vu. She knew this scene. 

     Hexes began bouncing everywhere, and through the dust he could make out several figures entering into the newly blown hole in the kitchen wall. Returning fire, Severus boldy advanced towards them. 

     A hex whizzed past her ear, and she began firing back through the smoke. 

           WHAM

          Hermione was flown backwards, the audible crack of her head filling her ears as she landed hard on the hardwood floor. Blinking into the smoke, Hermione panicked, her eyes too blurry to see anything around her.  A high pitched cackling laughter filled her ears, louder than the sound of her pouding eardrums. 

     Her breath came back to her in a woosh of oxygen, fight senses kicking in. Bright flashes of hexes swirled around her and she stumbled to her feet, searching for her wand in the haze. 

     The smoke seemed to thicken. Hermione took a deep breath, focusing as best as she could. Movement to left. She turned, searching into the grey. 

          “Oh little Mudblood! Come out, come out to play!” 

     The sing song voice of Bellatrix Lestrange was right in her ear, and raised every hair on her skin. Hermione turned, searching the thickening smoke. Second ticked by. She continued scanning, heart in her throat. The smoke had filled the entire space around, burning her eyes. 

     A flash of a black had her spinning to the left. 

          “Severus?” She whispered, hopeful. 

     Through the thick grey smoke, Bellatrix shot out in fury of wild dark curls. Her wiry hand wrapped around Hermione’s throat, squeezing with a lethal force. Hermione’s head and back smashed hard against a wall, as she clawed at the madwoman’s arm. 

     Bellatrix leaned her face in inches from Hermione’s, rotten breath burning her nose. 

          “No, no my little Mudblood. It’s just you and I now.”

     Panic flooded her system and her lungs screamed for air. Her vision was dimming as Bellatrix’s laugh surrounded her. With all her might she tried to fight, but her body was growing weak. 

          “Bye bye little Mudblood.”

     A sharp pain erupted in her ribcage. Hermione was falling down a dark tunnel. A scream filled her ears. It sounded like Severus's name. Maybe it was her scream. All she could think before the world went black, was she remembered this pain, once before. It haunted her dreams. 

~

     Severus knew this scene too well. He had spent hours going over every detail, but everything still felt so new. He cursed loudly, as he fired hex after hex, trying to gain some ground on the intruders. He dealt with the Weasley imposter quickly. When his first hex hit the boy, revealing the young 6th year Slytherin, he had given mercy and only Stunned the idiot. But the rest of the attackers he knew wouldn’t back down so easy. 

          “Severus!” A scream ripped through the chaos and explosions. 

     Throwing up his most powerful shield charm, it blasted the advancing intruders back buying him a few seconds. Widely looking around, Severus’s heart nearly stilled in his chest. Hermione was only ten or so feet away slumped against the wall unconscious. Blood was steaming from a wound near her ribs, pooling around her. 

          “No!” He roared.

     Sprinting to her, he fell to his knees frantically. The large gash was there, across her ribs. He gathered her close in his arms, pressing a palm hard along her wound. Panic overwhelmed him. Not again. He swore to himself this wouldn’t come true. He couldn’t lose her, he had to keep her safe. Focusing as hard as he could, he pictured the hotel in London. Behind him, Bellatrix cackled. 

“Avada-” 

CRACK 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah! This was a tough one to finish, and a bit of a rollercoaster but I hope you enjoy!


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